The Blindman
by Teemuu
Summary: Cloaked in mystery, shrouded by legend, the Blindman kills all who cross him, for the right price. After his father's death, Artyom finds he has no where else to turn, but did he turn to the right man? My 2015 nanowrimo submission.
1. Chapter 1

**The Blindman**

"Justice sees not the colour of one's skin, nor the rank of their birth.

Wealth, power, fame are trivial when one faces the Blindman."

* * *

"Wake up Artyom!"

Artyom ignored his servant Oksana, but woke up to the sharp sting of a slap. The young noble shot up from his reading divan, knocking the book that rested on his chest, and was shocked that his study room was filled with a haze and the smell of smoke surrounded him.

"Wha..what's happening Oksana," asked Artyom as the much larger woman dragged him to his feet. When he managed to get his bearings, his bodyguard threw him his rapier which he fumbled to catch.

"We're under attack, Artyom" replied Oksana as she kicked opened the servant's door.

A wisp of flame engulfed the big woman, but she forced her way through.

"My father, brother?" asked Artyom as he followed close behind her.

Oksana ignored the question as she threw some burning furniture aside, clearing the way to the stairs.

Artyom coughed as they made their way down to the manor's main level, but through the smoke and soot managed to keep pace with Oksana. As they made their way to the kitchen, Artyom stopped as an oddly familiar golden robed man suddenly appeared and barred their path.

"Sorry dear," said the man, his smirk barely visible from his hood. "No survivors."

Oksana hesitated as the man uttered several arcane syllables, before a stream of fire lashed out at him.

Artyom felt his own impending doom draw near. His life flashed before his eyes. The sadness of his mother's death. The nervousness of his father's second marriage. Racing about the manor with his brother Frederick. All the time wasted reading his swashbuckling tales. There was so much to do, so little time.

As Artyom braced for the flames, Oksana threw herself in front of him. Artyom expected to hear screams from the big woman, but Oksana simply ignored the fire, even as she spun around and charged the mage. A blue barrier crackled before her as she reached the wizard, but Oksana's shimmering blade would not be denied.

"RAAHHH!" shouted Oksana as she intoned her barritus, the war cry of the Imperial legion, as she broke through the mage's protections.

"What the..?" said the golden mage a second before Oksana slammed her enchanted sword into his chest, burying it up to the hilt.

"How?" asked Artyom stunned at the turned of events.

"Come on!" shouted Oksana, as she pushed the dead mage's chest with her boot to free her sword. Artyom didn't hesitate as he fled to her side, as they retreated through the manor's rear exit.

As Artyom fled with his bodyguard, he turned to see his family's summer manor burning brightly. The young nobleman caught the sight of a few more golden mages at the front of his burning house, with what looked like a troop of mercenaries watching the destruction. Several of his family guard were slain at their feet.

"Come on," hissed Oksana as she grabbed his shoulders. Artyom did not resist as she dragged him into the nearby trees, as the pair fled deep within the woods.

Though Artyom grew up playing in this forest, he shuddered at every shadow that barred their path. Once, he and his brother played here, pretending to be knights battling monsters and dangers. Now the dangers were real.

After ten minutes or maybe an hour, Artyom had lost count, the two stopped at a small creek. Oksana signalled Artyom to stop with an open hand. She briefly scanned the area, and after she deemed it secure to her satisfaction she waved at Artyom to approach.

"Are you alright?" asked Artyom as he struggled to catch his breath.

Oksana looked confused for a second and then shrugged. "Oh the fire, don't worry, I drank a potion of fire resist when …when the trouble started."

"Father, Frederick?" asked Artyom. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot about Kaden."

Oksana hesitated before shaking her head. "I don't know."

"What, what do we do now?" he asked hesitantly.

Oksana paused at that question before finally answering. "We go to Geselt, the guard are loyal to the House of Bancroft, they will protect you until we send word to the Emperor Thincol."

"Loyal? What do you mean loyal?" Artyom thought over her words and then it struck him. "Wait, are you saying this was an assassination attempt? They were after my father, and my brother? …and myself?"

Oksana looked stunned. "I..I didn't say that. I …I actually don't know," she admitted sheepishly.

* * *

Artyom paced around the watch tower's room. There were two guards outside, with Oksana and another half a dozen at the main entrance. It was an old wizard tower, warded by magic, and considered the most secured room in the town of Geselt. A proper place to hide the Baron's oldest son after last night's attack.

Artyom had already sent word to the capital and Count Darold but couldn't help but feel vulnerable and exposed. He was so paranoid that he jumped off his feet when the door to his room creaked open.

The massive form of Kaden blocked the door's frame. The grizzled man at arms, one of his father's most trusted retainers nodded at Artyom before his eyes surveyed the sparse room. Satisfied that it was secure, the big man stepped back into the corridor.

"Artyom! " beamed Frederick. His brother hesitated briefly scanning the door before he finally entered.

Artyom's heart shot to his throat at the sight of his older brother. The young nobleman jumped off his cot as he gave Frederick a hug. "The fire…the mages…the brigands. I..I thought you were dead. "

"Fortunately for me I was out….with one my various lady friends. I should have been there during the attack, but…I fear my bravado is misplaced. If I would have been there, I would have likely ended up dead."

"Dead….like father?"

Frederick's face frowned as he nodded his head slowly. " My men searched the burned out shell of the manor. The attackers had long fled, and father… father did not make it. There's no sign of his body. It's probably been burned beyond the point of any divination magic at our disposal. "

The two brother's lowered their eyes as the reality of the death of Baron Bancroft sunk in.

"How did you survive Arty?" asked Frederick in a tired voice. "Oksana said the pair of you fled into the woods?"

"Something like that," shrugged Artyom. "Who did this Frederick? "

"Bandits perhaps? Ambitious adventurers? Alphatian rebels? I told father to increase the guard, and hire some more mages and clerics, but it did little good. They get more brazen every year, especially with that incompetent Count Darold's policies. If we had a proper liege like Count Petyr…"

"I..I think Count Petyr is responsible for this," interrupted Artyom. The young nobleman was shocked that he uttered those words."I saw several mages with golden robes. Those are those Yellow Lord Cultists right? Didn't Count Petyr hire a couple of them last year to torch a brigand tower on the outskirts of his domain? It makes sense if you think about it, Petyr never did like father for speaking out against him, and siding with Count Darold. Also, Father's taxation policies favors…"

"Whoa..whoa there Artyom," said Frederick. "Watch what you are saying. Count Petyr is nobility, he's third in line to the throne. You can't toss about those accusations. What's your proof? A man in a gold robe. Someone with a tacky sense of fashion? That could be anyone. And even if they're one of these…what did you call them…. Yellow lord Cultists, that doesn't mean Petyr's responsible. I mean you just said he hired them, that means they could have been hired by anyone else…"

"…but father has no enemies! Count Petyr hated him, he had motive.."

"Silence brother. Look, I'm well aware of your….over active imagination. I think you've read way too many of those trashy swashbuckling stories," admonished Frederick. "Tales of Warmaster Fetch, the devil hero Zax, the Mistress of the Lionblade, and the Blindman are fun when you're a kid, but now's not the time."

Artyom took a step back, hurt at the accusation. "They aren't trashy. They're real accounts from writers in Grom."

Frederick sighed. "Listen Arty. Father's gone. It's just you and I now. We're all that's left of the House Bancroft. I need you to keep it together until the baronies' defenses are fortified. The Emperor might send token aid, but we are too out of the way for him to care about us. I've already requested aid from our neighbours, and it's not going to work if you accuse one of them of murder. "

"But…Petyr has the resources, and the motive..he…"

"Artyom!" said Frederick sternly, silencing his brother. "Look, no more talk of this. I'll hire a cleric, an oracle, whatever it takes to find our father's killer. Trust me on this. Justice will prevail, but for now we have a duty to keep the Barony together. The people look up to us, and it will not look good if we are squabbling."

Artyom turned red but held his tongue. For the rest of the conversation he glumly nodded at his brother. Though he was overjoyed by his brother's survival, Artyom knew his brother was wrong on this. Artyom already knew that the mages that had killed his father had covered their tracks. They would be warded against any divination. Didn't they mention something about orders? It couldn't have been a random attack. Count Petyr would be immune to any accusations due to his rank and bloodline, but that didn't mean justice would not be done.

Frederick was right though. He was in no condition to spout off accusations. Artyom knew his reputation around the Barony, and probably the kingdom in general was not very good. He was considered a dreamer at best, and a fool by the rest, but he had one thing going for him. Even though he would not be named baron, he was the oldest son of the house Bancroft. Not the most influential house in the Empire of Thyatis, but one of the richest.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's still too bright," commented Yarl. The non-descript man pointed at a sliver of light along the wall. "The slats have to overlap slightly more."

Teryn scowled at his master. Yarl was simply trying to throw him off, and Teryn wouldn't fall for such a ruse. The young apprentice simply turned the wooden bead hanging on the cord, which adjusted all the thin decorative planks hanging before the window. The combined façade of shifting wood created a picture of a horse running through the fields, but more importantly it chased the last bit of sunlight out of the room.

"The shutters work fine master," said Teryn smugly as Yarl examined his handiwork.

Yarl conceded the point with a slight tip of his head. "The picture is a nice touch. Very modern, but not too cosmopolitan so that one would think the owner was putting on airs. All in all, a find job. However.."

Teryn resisted an eye roll at his master. After a dozen or so raps on the head, he had learned that even from behind the man had an uncanny knack for seeing any signs of disrespect.

"…its too top heavy. You need to widen the hooks at the top else the whole thing will tear a chunk off the wall and fall on some poor sods head," explained Yarl.

Teryn sighed. The apprentice walked up to the blinds and gave them a swift yank. The contraption shuddered but it stayed firm on the wall.

"Too heavy eh?"

Yarl nodded as he walked to the table and retrieved a piece of uneaten cheese on the plate. "Nocker, here boy," he said as he whistled.

A small reptilian creature the size of a house cat hopped up on a chair. It was reddish brown in colour with a long neck and a tail ending with a stinger. Yarl waved the cheese infront of it's snout before tossing it lightly on top of the blinds. The creature quickly extended its wings and flew to the morsel, snatching it as it landed lightly on the blinds. Before it could eat its treat however, Teryn's contraption shuddered before snapping a hook, sending the small creature hopping once again to take flight around the room as the blinds fell with a crash.

Teryn was crest fallen at his destroyed masterpiece. "I guess it was a bit top heavy," admitted the apprentice.

Teryn then shot a withering gaze at Nocker. "Traitor,"he whispered. The small draconic creature beamed a smile at him before flying out of the room with his prize.

Yarl chuckled as he patted the young man on his back. "Just a minor setback, but all in all a beautiful piece of work. I'm sure you'll hone your craft with something impressive when I return in the spring."

"Off to visit your lovely half elf widower for the winter again?" smirked Yarl.

"She's not a widower, she's just ahh…how do you put it…a very mature unwed mother. Besides, her two kids left the coop ages ago, she's practically single now. Don't hold it against her, things in Grom and the northern lands aren't as easy as you have it today. A woman did what she had to do back then. The land was wracked with invasions and monsters, less than a generation ago. The whole country almost split up due to civil war and we almost invaded our northern trade partners as well. If it weren't for the heroics of …."

Teryn carefully tuned his master out. It was a skill he honed from his many lectures that often degenerated to some random unrelated story. The apprentice would still nod when asked, or repeat some phrase if questioned, but his mind was definitely somewhere else. Right now, Teryn imagined his non-descript master courting some fat old half elf woman in the north, while she giggled and kissed him with her pudgy lips and cheeks. Though he never met her, the image was quite entertaining.

"..so seeing how close you are to success, I'll draw up the papers in the morning proclaiming you as a full Journeyman."

"Wait…what did you say?"

"Oh, so you were listening while you were daydreaming again," chuckled master Yarl.

"Did you say I was a journeyman now?"

Yarl nodded as he waved at the many creations Teryn had made that were hanging in the shop. "You're as good as me boy, if not better. There's not many blind makers in the north to compare yourself against, but I wager you're as good as anyone in Grom City, Thyatis, or Darokin. You're not just skilled, but you're an artist. Hell, if you opened your own shop right now, you'd probably run me out of business. All I have going for me is my list of contacts."

Teryn shook his head. "I would never betray you master."

Yarl nodded."I know boy. So, I'm going to make you a partner in the business."

Teryn was shocked. "Full partner? You want me to be a full partner in 'The Blindman'?

Yarl laughed. "I said partner, not full partner. You will be a minority stockholder at best. You'll have to invest principal into the business, build some equity and all that other nonsense. I'll have a Royal tax collector draw up the papers, but don't worry lad, with the way business is going, you'll earn your fair share soon enough."

Teryn was speechless, but he knew Yarl was right. Blind making wasn't the most glamorous business, but it was in high demand. Besides the local lords and businesses, Teryn and his master were often called on by foreign lords to conduct business in faraway lands. Teryn loved the travel and the challenges of working in different cultures, but he especially loved the extra pay it would bring. He doubt, he would get any such work in the winter, but he was a patient man. He could wait till spring.

* * *

A few months later.

Teryn sat alone in the shop as the blizzard winds howled outside. Only slumbering Nocker kept him company.

"At least my blinds keep the warmth in," he mused sarcastically to Nocker. The small dragon simply purred as it rolled lazily against him.

He had sent Rawley and Tolfil home early. The boys were all too happy, while Teryn was relieved he only had to pay them a half days wage and didn't need to serve them lunch. The young journeyman sighed as he thought back to the days when he would welcome a slow day, but you get a different perspective on things when you're the boss.

If it was just a slow day it would have been fine, Teryn could use the break, but it wasn't. It wasn't just a slow week, but a slow month. They had enough business when master Yarl left, but their local contracts soon were completed and the locals seemed leery to trust him with solo work. The word he heard at the tavern, was that they wanted to wait till Yarl returned to get their shutters replaced, but that made no sense. Teryn did most of the work when Yarl was here, and he was going to do all the work now that he was gone. With his new position, the young journeyman had dreams of being the toast of the town, and wining and dining the alluring young local ladies, but with the local's distrust, and the particularly harsh winter keeping the out of town contracts away, it was going to be a long frugal winter.

Teryn sighed as he considered closing early and heading to the local tavern, the Brawling Stag. While the quality of its beverages were questionable, they were at least cheap, something he could afford.

*Knock Knock*

Teryn stopped.

"Hello? Are you open?" shouted a voice outside over the blizzard.

Teryn flung Nocker to the side as he almost fell over as he raced for the door. The young journeyman wrenched the door hard, breaking the ice that had sealed it shut. "Sorry about that, blizzard and all," said Teryn as he welcomed his guests.

There were two of them and from their thick accent Teryn could tell that they were foreigners. Given his recent trip there, he guessed they were Thyatians. The first one was slightly shorter than himself, and had a thin face and perfectly groomed dark hair. He was dressed in ermine furs, and what looked like heavy seal skin gloves and shoes. Teryn thought he was way over dressed even for this weather. It wasn't that cold, on a day like this Teryn would probably wear just a sweater. A true Grommer didn't consider it cold until exposed flesh stuck to metal. Teryn would have laughed at him if he wasn't a potential customer.

The other one was also overly dressed, but didn't stick out as much in her simple heavy tunic. She had a square face with a slight scar across her nose, and blonde hair tied in a very drab looking pony tail.

As the two stamped around in his shop in a dramatic show to get warm, Teryn started in on his business spiel. Though he was nowhere good as master Yarl, he had done it enough times to be at least comfortable with customers.

"Welcome, welcome my friends to the Blindman. What can I…"

"I didn't think you would be brazen enough to be out in the open, but I guess there's something to be said about hiding in plain sight. Wait..you..you're the Blindman?" asked the thin man in the expensive furs.

Teryn considered his words. Techinically, master Yarl was the real Blindman, but he did make him a partner so to speak. "Yes, Yes I am."

"I am Artyom, and this is my companion Oksana," said the man.

Teryn eyed the man's 'companion'. She was too big and too poorly dressed to be his consort, but guessed by the heavy blade at her side that she was some sort of bodyguard or man at arms. That meant, this Artyom was either rich or a nobleman, or most likely both.

"I am Teryn the Blindman," said the journeyman. "How can I serve you gentlefolk today?"

Artyom seemed overjoyed at Teryn, but Oksana stepped in front of him and gave the shop keeper a disapproving stare.

"You're kind of young aren't you? From all the stories I've heard of you, you're umm…I'm not sure really, the stories weren't really specific, but they do span for decades. I would guess, you should be at least fifty or perhaps older."

Teryn sighed, once again master Yarl's reputation got the best of him. He could claim he was elvish, but didn't lack the grace, the thin physique, and most importantly the pointy ears. He was too skinny to pass for a half elf, and dwarf, Halfling and gnome were definitely out of the question.

"I am not that particular Blindman, but I am a staking holding partner in his enterprise," admitted Teryn.

"But..but the stories never mentioned more than one Blindman. I didn't realize there were more of you," said the flabbergasted nobleman.

The customer was always right, but this was ridiculous. How clueless were these guys. "Look, I might not be the Blindman you are looking for, but I've studied under him for a decade now. I'm as good if not better than him. I know it, he knows it, why do you think he trained me? He can't be doing contracts all his life. He has to retire eventually."

Oksana grunted and signalled Artyom to leave. The young nobleman instead shook his head. "His words have merit. It makes sense that there's a league of Blindman, similar to ninjas, those thuge cultists, or the society of White lotus. Even master jewelers take apprentices. I would assume that someone in his…unique…profession would have a similar training regime."

Teryn fumed. What the hell was a ninja? It certainly didn't sound flattering to be measured against to one. Also, how dare he compare him to a lousy jeweler. He didn't just smelt rocks and chip stones. He made things that weren't only beautiful, but also served a purpose as well. To keep the sun out during the day, and to keep the warmth in at night. It was a blend of grace and utility that the common man and noble alike could use.

"I've gone along with you for long enough Artyom. I lied to Kaden, left the safety of the Barony, travelled to this godforsaken frozen wasteland, followed the clues of your ridiculous stories, just to hire a baby Blindman, not even the real one. We need someone with experience, someone with a proven track record for the job that needs to be done. Not only is your life depending on it, but your brother's as well."

Teryn stopped. "Excuse me miss, but did you just call me a Baby Blindman? A fool with no experience?"

"I did not say fool…but it fits," said Oksana.

Teryn ignored her quip. "I would like you to know, that I have plenty of experience. Almost a decade on the field. I did the job at the library of Lueders, the Archmage's Ballroom at the Grom University, and my master and I even met Emperor Thincol himself last year, although briefly, when we did the job at the Senate."

"Wait…that was you and your master? You did that job last year at the Senate?" asked Oksana warily.

Teryn nodded as he puffed his chest. "Yeah that was mainly me, my master was out drinking or sightseeing or whatever when we were at Thyatis City. It was a tough contract but I pulled it through in the end. Everything should be running smoothly, am I correct? "

Oksana blanched as she took a step back. Artyom took a step back and whispered something inaudible to her. She nodded as she opened the door and stepped outside into the cold.

"My companion was a bit taken back by your confession," said Artyom nervously. "I didn't realize you took contracts on cripples."

"If the gold is good, I'll take contracts for children, women, orcs, elves, whatever! We even did a job involving a dragon once, though it was supposedly shape changed at the time. I never seen it, in its full draconic fury or whatever, but she did live in a cave," boasted Teryn.

"I see. I'm quite surprised you are telling me all of this," said Artyom.

"Why shouldn't I? I'm not ashamed of what I do. I'm a professional, and I'm paid well for my services. I want to let the world know."

Artyom considered his statement for a few seconds and appeared confused. "Is it not illegal to perform the services you do in Grom, or in any other country? Isn't it risky to advertise?"

Teryn laughed. "You sound like my master. This is a perfectly legitimate business, though sometimes we do things under the table if you know what I mean. As for advertising, my master believes we get enough contracts for the two of us to handle, but he's thinking small picture. I'm thinking big picture. If we can't handle the volume of business, we can contract out our work to his associates in Lueders, for a commission of course. As long as we oversee the operations, it should maintain the quality standards. Between you and me, I think in a few years I can make this business national."

Artyom cringed. "You are …very ambitious, very ruthless."

"If I have to be, "admitted Teryn. "I dispatched two boys this morning because they were sitting on their asses all day. I don't mind getting my hands a bit dirty. Now, before you decide if you want to employ my services or not, tell me the job you want done. I'll give you a quote and an estimate, as well as options. If you can get a better price elsewhere, come back and I'll see if I can beat it."

Artyom stared at Teryn. "I …I don't think there's anyone else that does what you do."

Teryn nodded. "True, true. It takes a special kind of man to do the things I can do with my hands."

Artyom blanched. "Your hands…like in Thyatis …with those cripples in the Senate?"

"They're still talking about that aren't they?" smiled Teryn proudly, fondly remembering the new blinds he installed for those crippled senators. "It was pretty good work, if I say so myself. Lights out."

"I need to sit down," said Artyom as Teryn handed him a chair. The noble sat and breathed heavily for a few minutes before he turned to the journeyman. "I have a job for you. A fellow countryman of mine, Count Petyr Vanif is visiting your country in a few weeks. I do not know the nature of his visit or his complete itinerary, but I do know he will visit the cathedral of Vanya in Lower Lueders in ten days time. I need you to do, what you did to those cripples at the Cathedral. I'll pay your usual rates of course."

Teryn tried to contain his excitement as he calculated the costs in his head. This could be the contract that would set him up for the rest of the winter and beyond. If he played his cards right, he might even be a full partner by the time master Yarl returns. Lower Lueders is five days away, and even with sled dogs it would tack on two days. He has never been inside the Cathedral of Vanya but he has seen it from the outside. The main stain glass would be a challenge but was certainly doable. He couldn't transport all his materials with him, but all he needed was the gears, he could assemble the rest of the parts in Lower Lueders. He'd have to leave the store, but he could trust it to Rawley. He was the more responsible brat of the two.

"Given the haste you need this contract done," said Teryn cautiously. "I will need to tack on an extra 20% surcharge. Also half now, half later."

Please say yes, please say yes, thought Teryn as he waited on Artyom's reply.

Artyom extended his hand and the pair shook. "I'll pay it. Whatever it takes for you to prepare a proper welcome for that son of a bitch."

Teryn thought that was an odd way to refer to this Count Petyr guy, but given his travel experience, Artyom was a foreigner, and foreigner's often said funny things and always confused meanings.


	3. Chapter 3

Artyom hated the cold. Even next to the fire in his soft fur parka the young noble shivered uncontrollably as he waited for Oksana to prepare their meal. Oksana on the other hand, with her ugly wool overcoat simply shrugged off the weather. The big woman went on her business in their camp stoically, as if it was a nice fall day. Most infuriating was Teryn, the man had simply a sweater on and was humming away as he was checking the sled dogs.

"By Vanya," complained Artyom. "How can these Grommers live like this. I mean, we have winter back at the barony, but nothing like this. I'm use to nice fluffy snow not this life sapping white powder."

"You should have bought some endure element potions like I did," said Oksana.

Artyom looked at her in surprise. He didn't even know such a thing existed. Why didn't anyone tell him?

Oksana snorted as she continued to stir the stew. "It's not so bad. At least the blizzard stopped. At this rate, we'll be at Lower Lueders in four days not five."

"Speaking of which. I've been looking at the maps. Why do these backward Grommers call the city Lower Lueders when Upper Lueders is further south. Shouldn't it be the other way around, or do they naturally orient themselves to the north."

Oksana shrugged. "First of all, I believe it refers to its position on the river. Lower Lueders is down stream hence the name. Secondly, I believe Upper Lueders is a ruin now. Something about a necromancer a few years back, and the army razing the city in retribution."

Artyom shook his head. "They destroy a city to kill a single necromancer? They should have simply hired an assassin to do the job surgically."

Oksana paused from her cooking duties. She glanced at Teryn, who was off in the distance still tending the sled dogs. Satisfied that he was occupied she crept close to Artyom. "About the assassin, something isn't right. I know culturally he's different from proper Thyatians, but there's something wrong about him. It just doesn't add up."

Artyom snickered at his big companion. "Oh really? And how many assassins have you met before? It doesn't surprise me that he's a bit eccentric, given his line of work. "

Oksana shook her head. "First off, if you're an assassin, why do you publicly advertise your place of work. I was expecting us to make a deal in a sewer, an alley, or some secluded back room. We were practically on main street in whatever that backwater town was named."

"Heldamar," answered Artyom. " I'm sure we were at the right spot. That thieves guild dwarf, Hoaglie, gave us explicit directions to find the legendary 'Blindman'. To tell you the truth I was more surprised to actually find him even if this Hoaglie came highly recommended. Even with the money I paid, I was expecting a wild goose chase. And besides, our assassin said he wanted to hide in plain sight. I suspect he has some sort of arrangement with the local constabulary to look the other way, otherwise he would go on a stabbing spree or something. You have to remember these Grommers aren't proper law abiding citizens like those in Thyatis. A bit of gold can easily make one look the other way here. "

Oksana seemed unconvinced. "I'm also concerned about his fee."

"Oh? How so?"

Oksana glanced back at Teryn and saw that he was still occupied, she turned back to Artyom and continued. "Don't you think it's a bit low. This man or at least his organization is supposed to be the best there is when it comes to assassins. He only charged us 1200 gold. Even the Thyatian thieves guild charge 5000, and they're unreliable at best. "

Artyom frowned, he was clearly offended. "So now you are questioning my haggling skills? Just because he charges less, doesn't make him less reliable. As a nobleman, I learned the fine art of economics, an important skill as a merchant. Just because a bushel of apples cost a silver in Thyatis, doesn't mean you can't sell it for a gold up here in the north. Conversely assassins are either not needed up here, or they're a greater influx of them than the market can support. Therefore the rate is cheap. It's all a matter of supply and demand."

"That's the dumbest thing I heard," said Oksana as she shook her head. "Okay, one final thing. Explain to me his 'gear'. I took a peek, and all I saw was what looked like ropes and pulleys, and a tool box. What does he need all that for? Also, don't you find it odd he carries no weapons."

Artyom snickered." No visible weapons. He probably has a hidden dagger somewhere, or maybe poison needles hidden on his body. As for his tools, that's easy. I don't mean to question his trade, but clearly the man is going to devise a trap for our dear Count Petyr."

Oksana flinched when Artyom mentioned their target. "Artyom, are you sure this is the right thing to do. I don' mean just this assassin, but I mean do you think killing Petyr in a foreign land is justice? Shouldn't he stand on trial for what he did?"

Artyom tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The noble took a deep breath and slowly sighed. "I'm actually uncertain. But I feel at this point we have no choice. You of all people should know what I did to try to bring Count Petyr to justice. The oracles, mages, and diviners I hired over the last few months. The less than scrupulous people I had to lower myself to scrounge for leads. Even the aliases I made to try to squeeze any information I could to pin the guilt on the Count."

"All of which was circumstantial I might add," added Oksana. "All our efforts led to no direct connections to Lord Petyr."

"Aye, he hid his tracks well through both magic and more mundane methods. The fact my brother was looking over my shoulder the whole time didn't help either," grumbled Artyom.

"Yes, that's my point. We have leads that point to the Count, but nothing substantial. Should we really kill a man just on suspicion?"

Artyom slowly nodded."We've been through this before. I won't let that man flaunt his crimes in the face of justice. He benefitted the most from my father's death. He even gained more than my brother Frederick. "

"Step brother," corrected Oksana. "And for the record, Frederick conceded those holdings to Count Petyr to settle your father's debts and to consolidate the Barony's remaining holdings."

"I care not, the Barony might not be mine, but I feel that I belong to it and it to me," replied Artyom. Though he was the oldest brother, Frederick's mother was of a higher 'lineage' than his own, and he was named the future baron long before father's death. It never bothered Artyom to be looked over, he never sought leadership anyways, but any loss to the Barony Bancroft for the gain of the County of Vanif was an insult. "Is there anything else that troubles you? You might as well air it out now."

Oksana turned away. "The Emperor attempted to cover up the death of Senator Flavius, but I was there. The scene of his death haunts my nightmares still. I was guarding your father on one of his many trips to the capital and I saw it. Even though by all accounts, the Senator was a wicked, wicked man that hid behind the law, no one deserved to die the way he did. Do we really want to hire a man like that?"

Artyom fell silent, considering her question. "Senator Flavius was a pedophile and a sadist. He was cursed by the gods with his deformities that even magic could not heal, but he still flaunted his position and his power to the Emperor and all proper citizens of the Emperor. I'm not saying the Blindman is a saint, but someone had to do it. Everyone with a proper moral compass knows that."

Oksana turned away. She had no more questions as she ladled the stew for Artyom and herself. She wasn't an exceptional cook, but at that moment her cuisine was the equal of anything his father's chefs could conjure up back in Bancroft. As Artyom devoured his meal, he noticed the awkward silence between them.

"If you are not comfortable with this we can turn back. Teryn can keep his gold, it wasn't that much anyways," offered Artyom. She was his servant, his bodyguard, but she was also a friend.

Oksana shook her head and smiled coyly. "No, you're not placing this on me you weasel. I go where you go. You make the decisions. I'm just your strongarm that…."

Oksana paused as she glanced quickly from side to side. "Get your blade, " she whispered before kicking a big mound of snow into their fire.

Artyom wasn't sure what happened next. He knew enough to obey Oksana's command, but suddenly the camp was filled with a thick cloud of mist as the snow melted and put out the fire, forming an erie cloud in the process. As he fumbled for his blade, several bestial roars sounded around him, causing him to trip and tumble into the snow.

As Artyom fell, he saw several pairs of big hide covered shoes sticking out from the mist overhead. The young nobleman froze, like he did back at the burning manor, as the shoes approached him.

"RAAHHH!" shouted Oksana as she intoned her barritus. Her familiar guttural warcry that she learned during the Empire's many frontier wars. Artyom snapped out from his paralysis. Though he was in a bad position to draw his rapier, he drew his dagger instead. With a strength that surprised even himself, he stabbed and peirced one of the feet before him, and was rewarded with a bestial scream.

Artyom then rolled to the side, scrambling to his feet as his foe fell. Through the receding mist he saw Oksana deliver an overhead chop against a big burly humanoid clad in white hides. Her shimmering long blade easily sliced through its shoulder armor, and drove through leather and flesh for a good foot before she yanked it out. Another humanoid screeched as it charged her, swinging his axe wildly. Oksana cooly stepped to the side, dodging his swing, before stepping back and checking it hard against the side. The big humanoid, lost its balance against the unexpected attack and fell face first before Artyom. The young nobleman didn't stop to think, as he drew his rapier and jabbed the creature several times in the back. Though its armor deflected the first few of Artyom's blows, one of his wild stabs did find its mark and he was rewarded with a howl of pain and more thrashing from his victim.

Artyom turned to Oksana for approval, when he was shocked to see her running full speed towards him with her blade held in a high guard. The young nobleman winced as the blade swung down, splashing him with a spray of crimson.

Artyom gulped hard and glanced to the side. He saw Oksana's magic blade had crushed the humanoid he had stabbed in the foot earlier. The creature was only a foot away from him, and he guessed he lost track of it during his stab fest against his now dead victim on the ground.

"I..I killed it," stuttered Artyom as he realized the weight of what he had done. "I..I never killed anyone before."

"Hobgoblins. I've seen skirmishers like these during my frontier days. Probably scouts from a raiding party that decided to take advantage of the break in the blizzard," said Oksana, ignoring his shock as she scanned the woods.

"They'res probably more of them around here. We have to make sure they don't make it back to their band,"she said as she waved Artyom to follow.

"Umm…wouldn't it be better if we run then," pointed out Artyom.

"Not in this dark," she said as her eyes settled on the dogs. "Wait…where's Teryn?"

* * *

The first thing Teryn did when he heard the shouts was freeze. When he saw the big goblins charge the camp, the second thing he did was run.

Teryn wasn't sure where he was running to, but he knew he didn't want to be there. Though he had served in the militia for six months, the most action he had ever seen was tossing out some drunks at the Brawling Stag. He wasn't about to face monsters in the woods unarmed.

As Teryn fled, he suddenly realized that maybe he should have stayed at the camp. The kennel master told him the sled dogs could double as war beasts, and a few of them even hunted bear before, though given the raggedy nature of most of the mutts Teryn considered it a bit of embellishment on the man's part. Still, given the amount of dogs they had, he guessed they could easily fend off these big goblins. At worse, the goblins would probably kill enough dogs to satiate their hunger or whatever drove them, and then leave him alone as they gobble their canine treats in peace.

As Teryn considered this unlikely string of events, he tripped over something in the snow, sending him faltering before crashing hard against a pine tree. The young journeyman thrashed about the snow and pine bows, before scrambling up and spitting needles.

As he brushed himself off, he noticed two large furry goblins flanking him. One held a crude metal axe, while the other had a big spiked club.

"Hey fellas, umm, do you speaka the common?" he said as he held his hands open. The goblins ignored him as they advanced closer.

With his options limited, Teryn was forced to rely on his last trick up his sleeve. "Umm…how about this!"

With a flourish, the journey man chanted a few arcane words and his hands lit up in a ball of light.

The goblins halted shying away from the illumination.

"Do you like that huh? Do you want some more?" challenged Teryn.

The goblins waited for some other effect to occur. When nothing else happened, they flashed their yellow sharpened teeth before charging at the overmatched journeyman.

In a flash, a blur of scales hopped out of Teryn's sweater. The axe wielding goblin instinctively swung at the creature, mssing, before it shrieked in pain as the little ball of fury latched on to its neck and stung its face.

"Nocker!" cried Teryn, even as he dove forward avoiding the big club.

The axe wielding goblin's movements slowed as his greenish face turned purple with welts. It made a final futile grab at his assailant before toppling on his back.

Nocker then hissed at the remaining goblin, which defiantly returned the challenge by roaring back. The big goblin ignored Teryn as it charged the small dragon, swinging his club wildly at his smaller foe. Nocker ,for his part, dodged and weaved but was unable to penetrate the goblin's surprisingly proficient wall of swings. The two seemed at a stalemate, each engaged in a defensive battle of positioning.

Though Teryn was glad for Nocker's intervention, he wanted no part of it. He had to get back to camp and surround himself with dogs before the goblin and his friends returned to finish him. The journeyman extinguished his light to not draw attention to himself before sprinting back to camp.

The dousing of the light caught the big goblin off guard. The creature glanced briefly at Teryn. Nocker saw a break in its defenses and lunged towards its face. The small dragon bit into the creature's face, causing superficial scratches, before plunging it's stinger deep into the goblin's throat. The goblin dropped its club and attempted to grab Nocker, but the dragon simply jumped up, spread its wings and glided to Teryn's side as the goblin crumpled into a heap.

Teryn glanced backwards nervously and saw the two goblins were down, but he wasn't about to stop to check it out. He had a wall of dogs to build.

* * *

Artyom stumbled around in the dark. He was so lost he wasn't sure if he was following Oksana anymore. After hitting the fourth branch, the young nobleman had had enough.

"Okay Oksana stop. This isn't working. All we are doing is getting lost. My feet hurt. It's dark, how do you expect to find these hobgoblin scouts of yours. And if you did, then what?" he said as he caught his breath.

Oksana shrugged. "We've only gone a hundred feet from camp you belly acher. As for the dark, I can see fine. I drank a potion of infravison. It's expensive, but it sure came in handy right now. As for tracking them, that's the easy part. Unless you're one of the Greenguard from Alfheim, everyone leaves tracks in the snow," she said as she pointed at the ground.

Artyom couldn't see what she was waving at but trusted her enough. "What are we going to do when we find these hobgoblins then? You surprised them, with the snow in the fire trick, but we're in their territory now."

Oksana shrugged. "It's not our concern now. They've been dispatched it seems," she said as she walked forward and knelt to the ground.

Though it was dark, there was dim illumination coming from Oksana's magical blade. Artyom could see first one, and then a second goblin dead in the snow.

"Poison," said Oksana as she pointed at purple welts on the dead goblins' faces and necks. "Looks like your Blindman got here before we did."

Artyom cringed. As a noble, he naturally considered poison a coward's weapon. There was good reason that the higher ranking nobles hired food tasters. When people can't strike through one's army, they often sought to dispatch one through their belly. Though father did not regularly employ a food taster, even he had one on retainer when important personages visited the Barony.

"Let's go back to camp," said Oksana. "We'll leave the fires out in case there's more of them about, but I suspect they won't trouble us anymore tonight. If it's one thing I learned on the frontier, is that goblins and especially hobgoblins respect strength. We just dispatched five of them, they'll give us some leeway."

She then relaxed a bit and smiled at Artyom. She reached out and tenderly wiped some of the blood on his face. "This is your first blooding Artyom, and not under controlled circumstances like most other Royal whelps get to enjoy. We were outnumbered in the middle of nowhere, and you held your cool. Your father would be proud."

Artyom nodded in agreement, he welcomed the praise and some of his nobleman's bluster returned. "Well I guess we did teach them a lesson. Let's find our assassin and regroup," he said as they marched back.

"Eccentric assassin," she said as she pointed at the approaching camp.

Artyom wasn't sure what to say at first, but he agreed with her assessment when he saw Teryn carefully arranging the wagging sled dogs in a ring around himself.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm a professional. I'm a professional," repeated Teryn to himself as he drove his sled forwards. His brief encounter with the two big goblins last night in the woods had him reconsider his contract. He was a simple craftsman, not a hero or an adventurer. He should be lathing a piece of wood back in his shop, not fighting monsters in the woods.

"Eh? Did you say something? " shouted Oksana as she mushed her dogs forward. Though she was new at handling a dog sled, the big warrior woman was quick to pick up the nuances. Artyom on the other hand, simply lied on the sled, bundled up in his furs.

Teryn wanted to shout back the deal was off, but this was the opportunity of the life time. He couldn't just let a few goblins get in the way of his dreams. After this contract, he would have enough gold to buy equity into the Blindman. After that he wouldn't be working for anyone, he would be working for himself.

"There's an inn ahead! " shouted Teryn as he decided to forge ahead with this path. No reward comes without risk. "It's next to Upper Lueders. We should stop for the night."

"No," shouted Oksana. "It's too early to rest. If we push our way forwards we can get to Lower Lueders in two days."

Though Artyom appeared to be asleep, the young nobleman raised a hand and signalled for the group to pull towards the inn. "I've had enough of this damn cold, we make for the inn," he shouted to his bodyguard.

With a sigh, Oksana nodded as she pulled her sled behind Teryns, following the craftsman towards the inn ahead.

* * *

Besides Teryn and his employers, the common room of the inn was empty save for the lone bartender. Teryn thought it odd, that this normally busy tavern was near deserted, but he simply attributed it to the recent blizzard. Still, that didn't explain the lack of the local farmers enjoying this establishment's comforts, but his concerns were lost on his companions.

"I had my doubts about a place called the 'Laughing Skeleton', but the ale here is not bad," admitted Oksana as she waved the bartender for a refill.

"This is a bit rustic for my tastes, but I've had worse," said Artyom as he stretched his arms now that they were freed from his heavy furs. "and given where we've been the last little while, I would say I've had much worse."

"I take it you two have been travelling for a while?" asked Teryn as he threw a peanut at Nocker. The small dragon chirped as he hopped up and grabbed the treat.

"I don't want to admit it, but I think we've been to every den of sin looking for you from here to Thyatis City," said Artyom. "On a side note, where did you get that pseudo dragon? I thought only mages could tame them."

Nocker stopped and hissed at Artyom, its wings and tail outstretched as if ready to pounce.

"Easy there little guy," said Teryn as he petted the dragon. "Nocker doesn't like to be called a pseudo dragon. He finds it crass. Refer to him as either Nocker or dragon, and you two will do fine."

Artyom laughed as he did a slightly drunken curtsey towards Nocker. "Forgive me Sir Dragon, I was not aware of my rudeness."

Nocker seemed satisfied with the response, as it relaxed and began to purr at the craftsman's side.

"As for your question," continued Teryn. "I am a mage, though not a good one. I found this little guy at my doorstep, mewling like a kitten when I was a kid. I wouldn't consider Nocker my familiar or anything, but I think he supplements his diet by feeding on my latent magic or something like that."

Oksana was deep into her drink when she raised an eyebrow at his comment. "You are a wizard? I didn't know wizards…umm…can perform the tasks of your profession."

Teryn shrugged. "I'm not really a wizard, I was pulled out of the mage's academy after my second year. Something about a crazy giant snake loose on the premise I think. Still, what magic I have is very useful in my craft," explained the craftsman.

He wanted to tell them about his use of light spells, unseen servants, and floating disks but he didn't want to bore his clients. In fact, though he loved talking about himself, he wanted to learn about his employers. Not that he was really interested, they were just a rich nobleman and his bodyguard who wanted blinds set up at a church, but from watching Yarl he learned the art of conversation was as valuable as swinging a hammer. He was about to question if they were members of the church of Vanya, or what a Thyatian noble was doing so far north when his attention was drawn to a gust of cold from the tavern door.

Teryn turned and saw two robed gentleman enter the inn. The bartender bowed several times nervously at his two new customers before sitting them at a table and rushing forth to get their drinks and meals. Teryn thought it odd that the two men didn't actually order anything, but just assumed that they were regulars or locals. There was nothing remarkable about the pair of them save for their tacky golden robes.

"Hisss."

Teryn turned and saw Nocker was in a mood again. He thought Artyom must have made a joke at the small dragon's expense, but instead its attention was turned towards the newcomers. It was strange that Nocker would behave so aggressively to these strangers, it seldom did that except in the presence of small dogs. He was about to comment to Artyom and Oksana, when he noticed the pair of them appeared tense as well. Oksana snarled and look like a cage cat ready to pounce, while Artyom had a hand on a real expensive lookin rapier, with an onyx studded scabbard and a mother of pearl hilt. Teryn stared at the blade and nodded. What a good looking sword, I'm going to have one, one day. I wouldn't even need to draw it, just show it off and the goblins would run away, and the ladies would flock around me.

"Be ready," said Oksana in a soft voice.

Teryn was puzzled, and then heard soft footsteps behind him. The craftsman turned and saw that one of the tacky yellow robe guys had made his way towards their table.

Oksana and Artyom said nothing as they glared at the interloper. Teryn shook his head. Thyatians. Not the friendliest people in the world.

The robed man took a step forward, assaulting Teryn's nose with a terrible stench. Oksana, Artyom, and even Nocker leaned back, but the craftsman braved the odour.

"Greetings,"said Teryn as he attempted to break the ice. "Terrible weather we're having isn't it?"

"What are you doing here in these parts?," inquired the man. A thin gaunt individual upon closer inspection. Given his instruction in the arcane arts, Teryn guessed he dabbled in dark magics.

"Just passing through friend," explained Teryn. "The lady here wanted to push our way to Lower Lueders, but I couldn't pass through these parts without a mug of the 'Laughing Skeleton's' finest. In fact, you and your buddy look a bit thirsty, how about a round on me."

The gaunt man wasn't sure what to say. He simply glared at them awhile longer, before bowing and returning to his table.

"What was that about?" asked Artyom as the tension slowly left his body.

"Just making small talk," said Teryn. "I'm pretty sure those two are locals. Given their dress, I'm going to assume they are mages or priest of some sort. From their smell, I'm going to say they're involved in necromancy or something in that field. That means they have a temple or mage hut or whatever nearby, probably in the nearby ruins. As a businessman, I want to keep my options open. Who knows, they might need to hire The Blindman in the future. Fix up their place, if you know what I mean."

Artyom's jaw dropped. "You got all that from thirty seconds of talking to him?"

Teryn shrugged. "They're just assumptions, but my master Yarl always praised me for being observant."

Oksana shot him a withering look of disapproval. "The rumors are true. You'll work for anyone if the price is right."

"Business is business. If I don't do the job, someone less qualified and probably much more sloppier is going to take the contract instead. I consider it a public service to make my services available to one and all," smiled Teryn.

Teryn wasn't sure what he said, but Artyom looking clearly offended, and left the table with Oksana following. The pleasant mood at the table quickly turned sour as the two retreated to their quarters leaving Teryn alone with his dragon.

"Maybe they didn't like the roast," suggested the craftsman.

Nocker made a chiming noise before hopping into his sweater.

Teryn considered sitting with the two golden robe gentleman, but reconsidered when he was reminded of their stench. The night wasn't a total loss though, as a small caravan, about a dozen merchants and guards stopped in, and the tavern livened up considerably with their company.

* * *

After several rounds of drinks, a dozen songs with some of the caravan's guards, and one too many shots of the local potato vodka, Teryn retreated to his room. As he staggered his way there he found Oksana leaning against, presumably Artyom's door.

"Guard duty?" he said, his speech slurring.

"I have concerns with the robed gentlemen we encountered this evening," she said. "Though it seems they are unfounded since, they did not appear to recognize us."

"Hrmm those guys left an hour ago. They gave everyone dirty looks before going back home," yawned Teryn. The craftsman then looked at the door Oksana was guarding. "What's up with Arty? He's too good to let you sleep with him in a public place?" he asked. Instantly he regretted saying that. " I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. That was the booze talking," he apologized quickly.

Oksana giggled slightly. "You're not the first nor will you be the last to suggest that. Normally there's some nose breaking involved, but I'll give you a pass this time," she said with a coy but still threatening smile.

Teryn was surprised such a big woman could laugh in such a feminine manner. In fact, without her heavy overcoat on, he was quite impressed with her figure in general. She was wearing a simple grey tunic, but it easily showed off her large arms, wide shoulders, and lean muscular physique. The more he looked at her, the more he found her attractive. Even her square jaw, and the cute cut across her nose started to seem alluring. Oh, and her ample breasts, Teryn couldn't help himself but he found himself staring a second longer than he should at her chest.

"Ahem," interrupted Oksana. "Your room is over there."

"Sorry about staring, but did anyone tell you that you're beautiful," asked Teryn. He instantly regretted saying that, and would have smacked his own fore head with his palm if he had a bit more motor control.

"Yes, my lover Kaden tells me that a lot," she said with a smile. "Now be a good assassin and get to your room. "

Assassin? What was she talking about? Teryn took a step towards his door, but then swiveled on his foot and found himself facing Oksana again. "Kaden? Who's that?"

Oksana sighed. "Kaden and I are both men at arms in the service of the Barony of Bancroft. I guard Artyom, while he guards Frederick, the Baron of Bancroft. I've known him since our days on the frontier. Now if your curiosity is saited, please get back to your room and drop your act before you embarrass us both. You can't fool me, with your 'drunk' performance by the way. I've heard enough of you and your master's exploits to know it's simply a ruse to get one to drop their guard."

Teryn wanted to say something about Lemball, goal keepers, and scoring, but forgot. He simply bowed and staggered to his room, fumbled at the door, and collapsed in his bed with the image of a beautiful goddess on his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Through the space under the door, Artyom could see Oksana's shadow, and guessed she was still guarding his door. He could hear her talking for a bit, before falling silent in her vigil again. His loyal servant would probably be there all night, catch a few hours rest in the morning, before leading their group through the last leg of their journey. Her relentless vigilance was one of the traits he admired about her, the death of Count Petyr was as much her quest as it was his.

Artyom guessed it was the death of the Baron that spurred her on. As one of the house guards of the Bancroft Barony, she must have suffered a big blow to her honor when his father died. Not that he blamed her for it, from what he saw, he should have been dead too if Oksana hadn't intervened. If it weren't for her 'relentless' vigilance, his remains would be buried in his family's mausoleum being mourned by his brother.

However, it was in Artyom's opinion that she was a bit too cautious. He thought it was pretty uncharacteristic of her to follow him on his crazy plan to have Count Petyr assassinated, but he was sure she wouldn't approve of what he would do next.

It might have been the two pitchers of rural house brew ale, or the fact he killed that hobgoblin last night, but Artyom found his courage bolstered. Bolstered enough to follow those two yellow mages.

His only fear was that pulling the heavy slatted shades up would alert Oksana, but they rose remarkably smoothly. Seeing his biggest obstacle overcome, Artyom crawled out on the ledge, silently closed the window, thanked the remarkable craftsman that made it, took a deep breath, before jumping fifteen feet down into the snow bank below.

It was a bit recklessly, but the powdery snow broke his fall. Artyom quickly brushed himself off before sneaking to the edge of the tavern, and there he waited in the cold.

He didn't have to wait long till the gentleman in the golden robes left. Artyom expected the two, but he didn't expect the person between them. A smaller man, or perhaps a woman, he couldn't tell in the darkness, that was either stumbling or being dragged.

Artyom followed the trio from a distance. While he couldn't see in the dark, luckily they were fairly obvious in their bright golden robes. Instead of making their way to one of the local farms or cottages, the golden robed mages and their 'guest' headed south towards what looked like a dark city.

Upper Lueders was the ruins name? Artyom recalled Oksana mentioning something like that. Regardless of the danger, the young nobleman trailed them. At first Artyom thought that the golden mages that attacked him were just mercenaries hired by Count Petyr, murderous cultists of the mysterious Yellow Lord. All the evidence he collected pointed to that conclusion, but finding them all the way here in Grom, just when Count Petyr was about to visit was too much of a coincidence. Artyom had to know if there was a connection.

As Artyom entered the foreboding ruins, the young noble felt a tangible aura about the place, a feeling of dread and death that made him short of breath and his flesh weak. Artyom paused to reconsider his plan as the alcohol slowly worked its way out of his system, draining his courage, but restoring a bit of his reason.

Maybe he should bring Oksana, and perhaps Teryn as well. The assassin wasn't contacted for this extra work, but Artyom could just throw money at him. From the way he was talking in the tavern, it was plain that was the way he preferred to operate.

Before Artyom turned back, a woman's scream sounded ahead.

Artyom wasn't sure why, but he found himself running towards the sound with his rapier in his mittened hand instead of away with it. It was only a short dash, but the young nobleman found himself in a wide courtyard strewn with what appeared to be bones and skulls. In the middle of the courtyard a slim figure dressed in a merchant's dress laid sprawled on the ground begging incoherently for her life. She was surrounded by a half dozen creatures. They were hunched and though appeared bipedal, loped around on all fours. One of the bigger creatures must have heard or saw Artyom and it turned and gazed directly at him.

Artyom felt his blood chill even further than it already had, when he saw its gaunt face, sharp yellow teeth, and glowing red eyes. The creature appeared to be half shadow, and half a thing from some childhood nightmare. It grunted once, alerting the others to his presence, and as one the lot of them gave out a high pitched inhuman shriek.

Whatever force that made Artyom run towards the scream abandoned him. Artyom didn't even bother to look to see if they were going to charge him, he simply turned and ran back towards the inn.

The young nobleman raced through the snow as fast as he could. Even though he couldn't hear their footsteps his mind was telling him that those monsters were getting closer. A hard blow to his leg caused him to almost fall and trip over. More importantly a deathly chill seemed to spread from where it struck him, causing him to momentarily freeze up. Fortunately for Artyom it was only for a second before he shook off the paralysis, recovered his stride mid slip, straightened his jogging stance, and dashed faster than he thought he possibly could.

It wasn't till he left the ruins that he felt a great weight lift from him. The night sky grew less dark, and the feeling of oppression left him. Artyom glanced back and saw the half shadow creatures congregate at the edge of the ruins, staring at him in rage. The young noble noted that the creatures seemed held back, at the exact place he felt the dark aura vanish. Was there a protective spell hemming them in? Something like what a thamutergist would employ to trap demons and the like. A pentagram he believed they called it.

Against his better judgement in what proved to be a night of bad judgements, Artyom stopped to test his theory. The creatures stalked back and forth but seemed held back by the invisible barrier.

Artyom laughed at his good fortune. He rooted through his enchanted pack, a necessity for a travelling aristocrat such as himself, and dug out his hunting arbalest. He wasn't sure what these creatures were, but assumed they were the undead given their abode, and fumbled with a silver quarrel as he attempted to load it into his weapon with his big fluffy mittens.

"You guys want a piece of me? How about I take a piece of you," taunted Artyom as he winded up the weapon's winch. Though he appeared to be full of bravado, he was careful to keep a good distance between them in case the theoretical invisible barrier broke and he was forced to run again. The creatures appeared more agitated than ever, and several more joined the pack.

The arbalest was made to hunt owlbears, fierce predators that lurked in the forests of his homeland. It took forever to wind up, but could pierce through a two foot tree trunk. He just hoped the creatures weren't immune to mundane weapons, or poofed into a puff of smoke, or had some other magical defense.

Artyom took a knee, aimed at the biggest one, said a quick prayer to Vanya, before letting his bolt fly. The recoil of the weapon staggered the young noble, knocking him down even from his kneeling position and he wasn't sure if he hit or not. A chorus of howls however sent him scrambling up. Instead of being overrun by monsters, Artyom was surprised to see that the lot of them scattered back into the darkness, leaving only a single creature crumpled on the ground, with a big arbalest shaft sticking up from his chest.

Artyom felt a rush of adrenaline. That was two nights, two dead monsters. Well technically a hobgoblin was a humanoid, and calling them monsters was a bit racist, but it didn't matter to Artyom. He felt like a hero.

"Wait, the girl," said Artyom out loud to himself. "I forgot about the girl. She's still back there."

Though he was brave enough to dispatch this monster from a safe distance behind a barrier, was he brave enough to go back into the ruins to rescue her? His first instinct was to run back to Oksana and Teryn and beg for their help, but it would be too late for her. Artyom wanted to rush back in, with Arbalest and rapier in hand and cut a swathe through the monstrous hordes to rescue her, but deep down he couldn't enter that place again. He couldn't even force himself to take one step closer. If he was a hero, he was nothing but a false hero.

As Artyom started to turn away, and run back to the tavern in shame to plead for help, another shadowy figure stumbled through the ruins, breaking through the invisible barrier as it ran towards him.

Artyom's blood ran cold. They were coming for him.

Maybe it was a higher more powerful form of monster or something that could resist the barrier, he wasn't sure. He quickly drew another bolt, fumbled with it with his mitts, and began the long process of winding up his weapon. Could he load it in time before the beast was upon him.

The creature's step quickened as it approached, faster than the noble could reload. He stood up, prepared to throw his weapon to slow down the beast, but was unexpecedtly knocked to the ground by a hug.

"Thank you, thank you," sobbed the girl.

Frederick pushed her off and was taken back when he got a good look at her. She was wearing only a simple blue cloth tunic, less winter clothing than even Teryn was sporting. Even though she was probably a merchant, one of the lower society castes, she was quite the beauty with her slim feminine build, oval face, wide eyes, high cheek bones and perfect long brown curls.

Artyom's brother Frederick always laughed when questioned about his dalliances, that it was a cruel joke by the gods to place men of quality in the nobility, but scattered the equivalent women through all the social strata, a point that Artyom always questioned until now.

"I thought I was dead, but you lured those ghouls away from me, giving me a chance to escape. You even killed a couple for my sake."

Ghouls? Was that what they were? Artyom was about to point out he only killed one, but he kept his mouth shut as she showered him with warm soft kisses.

"Why were you in those ruins?" asked Artyom as the girl's affections calmed down.

The young girl began to answer, but paused and gave him a bewildered look. "I..I'm not sure. One moment I was in the inn with my family, weary from a long day on the caravan trail, the next I was being lead into a courtyard by two…I'm not sure…two golden angels? Wait..do you think I was enchanted?"

Artyom shrugged. "I'm almost positive. Though the miscreants that did this to you are nowhere in sight. Come now, I'll take you back to your family."

"Thank you, thank you," she repeated as he led her hand in hand back to the tavern. "By the way, I'm Clara."

"Artyom of Bancroft at your service," bowed Artyom in proper noble fashion as he took her bare hand in his heavy mitts and kissed it. Clara should have curtsied back in proper fashion, but instead almost fainted from his gesture.

" My father runs the caravan, and many more. I'll let him know of your deed and he'll be sure to reward you handsomely," she said as they left the outskirts of the ruin.

Artyom chuckled at the crude reward. Coin was the last thing he needed. Besides if Oksana found out he snuck out to follow those golden mages into the ruins, well he thought he had stood a better chance against those ghouls. "There's no need for that. I do not require either fame or fortune. In fact, I would prefer it if you kept it between ourselves. I am on a, how do you say, a personal quest right now, and I would prefer secrecy right now."

Clara sighed at his statement, as she leaned lovingly on his shoulder the rest of the way back to the tavern.


	6. Chapter 6

The pair of sleds trailed behind the caravan. While the muskox pulled wagons were considerably slower than the dogs, they were also relentless and were effective at blazing out a path. The massive muskox with their extreme weight crushed the snow, leaving an impromptu trail in their wake.

Teryn's head throbbed as his dog sled weaved across the newly formed trail. Fortunately they were taking a slower but steadier pace compared to yesterday, and instead of flipping he merely bumped against a tree before he corrected his course.

"Damn, that was some good ale last night," laughed Teryn as he drew close to Oksana's sled. "You two should have stayed a bit later for a pint or two."

Oksana gave him an oddly coy smile and a wink. "I prefer staying sober. People regret things they say and do when drunk."

Teryn was puzzled at her response and shrugged at the big woman. He wasn't sure why, but she looked oddly pleasant this morning, a bit more approachable than normal perhaps. Maybe it was because she let her hair down slightly, or maybe she was smiling instead of scowling all the time.

"Being drunk is not that bad," added Artyom. "Besides making a fool of yourself, it also gives you great courage."

Oksana grinned from ear to ear at his comment. "Oh, like killing some ghouls and rescuing the caravan master's daughter?"

Artyom frowned. "Clara told you? She was supposed to keep our little adventure a secret."

"Oh, you were the one that rescued that pretty girl? " said Teryn. "Good for you!"

"It's Clara now is it? Well your little 'secret' was blabbed about all morning. She couldn't stop talking about some unnamed mysterious hero dashing into the ruins and rescuing her from those ghouls. It only took a walk outside your window and a glance at the footsteps you left in the snow to figure out who she was talking about."

Artyom threw his hands in the air. "Hrmm, you know the trouble it caused me to climb back into my room. If I knew you would have found me out, I would have just walked through the front door."

"We will talk about your recklessness later, thought at least your 'Clara' convinced her father the caravan master to let us travel with his band," said Oksana. "Though they are slower, we are making good progress. They are very efficient with their time."

Teryn agreed. He and Yarl often moved from town to town with them, and the young craftsman was very familiar with their practices. Besides travelling longer without exhausting the animals, one of the luxury of the wagons was it allowed them to rest and cook on the move.

"So, besides stealing some kisses and whatever other reward your Clara gifted on you," said Oksana.

Artyom turned and shot her a very irritated look but said nothing.

".. did you find what you were looking for? Any information on those gold robes?" continued Oksana.

Artyom's irritated looked faded and was replaced by a disappointed one. "They dragged Clara into the ruined city and tried to feed her to those ghoul things. I lost sight of them, when I ran," the noble admitted.

"You ran?" asked Oksana. "What's this about you killing half a dozen ghouls then?"

Artyom shrugged. "Last night was not as heroic as Clara made it out to be. The ghouls chased me to the edge of the ruins, and then something held them back. A barrier or something was keeping them at bay. I just shot one as they were howling at me with Owlsticker and the rest scattered."

"Owlsticker?" asked Teryn.

"His custom Owlbear hunting crossbow," explained Oksana. "A scary weapon, but too slow except to use on immobile or very slow creatures."

"Well, if you put it that way, that doesn't sound that heroic at all," sniffed Teryn. "I would have spiced up your tale a bit more."

"A son of Bancroft does not need to embellish his deeds," said Artyom smugly.

Oksana however narrowed his eyes towards Teryn. "So, do you 'spice up' your tales often."

"Eh?"

"About your work?" pressed Oksana.

Teryn rolled his eyes. "Of course not, my clients and the people that behold my work do that for me."

* * *

The caravan reached Lower Lueders pretty much when Artyom expected. He said a brief farewell to Clara, and thanked her father for guiding them through the snowy countryside. Teryn, being the professional that he was, instantly went to work. He left them some contact information to meet at some bizarrely named inn called Penguin manor before running his errands. Artyom did not want to know more than he needed and left the assassin to do his unsavory business. The man said something about supplies, and setting up, and that was fine with him. The less he knew about it the better.

Artyom booked a room at one of the higher end inns, the Wailing Fox, at the noble district for Oksana and himself. By his count, they had five more days before Count Petyr arrived at the cathedral of Vanya. He wasn't sure if he should simply lie low, observe the affair directly, or maybe leave town again. At first he thought his presence would cause suspicions, but then he brushed that idea off. Perhaps if this assassination was taking place in Thyatis city, but here in the middle of nowhere in Grom, no one would know.

Oksana however, preferred the quiet route, and insisted they stay put. The first day the pair of them remained in their rooms. The room itself and the furniture were a bit beneath his station, but at least they didn't smell like wet dog or mold like most things did in Grom. One of the things that he had to get over when he started his quest, was the dirt and the aroma of the 'underworld'. As a noble, everything had a floral or no scent at all. Dirt was almost unheard of in the manor, and everything was always in its proper place, or was soon put back in its rightful position. When Artyom went from inn to seedier inn, he found that the rest of the world did not live to such a standard.

Rat droppings, layers of dust, cobwebs, moldy food, and barely anywhere to sit without brushing against piss stains were some of the hazards that were thrown in Artyom's path. The young noble cringed at first, but eventually overcame his revulsion. He could never lower himself to live in such a way, but he could at least tolerate it. This inn however, was a welcome change from the dirt he was forced to crawl through.

Still, after spending a day in the relative comfort of the inn room, Artyom was surprised to find himself longing for the chaotic sights of Lower Lueders. While he had passed through it before, he never truly experienced the infamous city.

From what he had heard, the Lower Lueders was merely a collection of mud and straw huts less than two decades ago. However, since the reopening of the Northern Kingdoms for trade, this port city had become the focal point of commerce as the rich northern kingdoms sent their gold in exchange for exotic goods from around the world. Even his simple barony had benefited from the trade as the local craftsman and mines found new market for their goods.

With money however, comes people. A lot of people. Besides the merchants and nobles that arrived to seek their fortune. Thousands of artisans, workers, and simply people looking for a better life arrived to the city.

Artyom would have expected miles of slums to spring up from this random population explosion, but apparently the Governor Knight Supreme Lord Grace Commander or whatever title he gave himself kept an iron hand, as well as multiple eyes on the city. The city was well planned out, with proper roads and sewage systems, though the houses themselves were a mix of various styles. Some Darokin mansions, mixed with Thyatian manors, with some Ostland long houses thrown in, were common mixes in the various blocks that Artyom passed through. Such was the influx of different people and cultures, that eventually the local Thyatian contingent decided to build a cathedral to Vanya here.

While Artyom never considered himself a very religious man, he did pay his respects to the religion of his people. Vanya was the goddess of victory, and it was said that with her blessings the people of Thyatis conquered most of their neighbors. Even Oksana's people, a race of mix of Norse and Heldann blood were put under the fold of the empire. Artyom wasn't sure if he agreed with such a forced policy or not, but there were things he could change and things he couldn't. As powerful and mighty Vanya might be, the age of conquests for Thyatians were long over. Though Thyatis' armies were feared throughout the world they had enough trouble putting down rebellions and keeping their own holdings. Artyom guessed that some people didn't see it that way though, and hoped that this new cathedral would entice the Grommers to join with Thyatis willingly. A foolish notion, but at least it was better than the old ways of blood, iron, and war.

As Artyom considered the religion of Vanya, he realized that he had not entered the cathedral in question since he arrived here. He walked past if a few times, originally a big multi-level stone building dedicated to some pagan god that was bought and sold by the local Thyatians, but he had never been through its doors. The building itself seemed in a constant state of renovations, which wasn't surprising given its expanding nature.

Artyom wasn't sure why Count Petyr came all the way to Grom, but assumed they wanted a dignitary to open the cathedral. He might have been here for other more mercantile business, but the word was that he was to be in that particular spot in five more days. A fact that Artyom would take advantage of.

The man had his father slain, and practically flaunted it to Artyom's face. Petyr's lands prospered as the Barony was crippled through concessions just to secure its borders. Given his ties to the Emperor, there would be no chance he would prosecuted, save for hard evidence, but despite Artyom's best efforts none of that was to be found. Though the man that killed his father escaped justice in Thyatis, he will not escape it here in Grom.

All Artyom had to do was wait five more days in this room. Teryn would do the rest. He could do that.

"Artyom! Pack your stuff," said Oksana as she burst in his room. "We have to go now."

From the tone of her voice and her stern expression, Artyom did not question her. He quickly gathered his stuff, followed Oksana down the back hallway, before she lead him down the servant's stair case. Something similar to what she did many months ago, minus the burning building, and the mage in their path.

As the pair entered the busy streets, they hustled through several side streets till they were many blocks away from the inn.

"Would you care to tell me what that was all about?" asked Artyom in a level voice so not to attract attention.

Oksana's eyes darted back and forth. She glanced back once before pulling Artyom into a nearby shop. "It's Frederick. He's here," replied Oksana.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sixty gold for the lot," haggled Teryn. "And not a silver more."

The rat faced merchant's cheeks grew red, and he began to gesticulate wildly. "This is imported hardwood from the forests of Alfheim."

"Imported?" chuckled the craftsman. "You mean smuggled. I doubt the elves would chop down their trees to make furniture for humans."

"Eighty gold then," countered the merchant.

"Sixty."

"Seventy and a half."

"Sixty."

"Seventy."

"Done," said Teryn as he drew out his satchel and paid the man. He knew he could have gotten him down to sixty, but he was in a rush. He didn't have the time to make a scene by stomping off, and returning later to test the waters again. He was on a tight schedule. "Have this wood shipped to the cathedral of Vanya. I need it this afternoon."

"That will be a one gold delivery charge," said the merchant as he held his hand out.

Teryn closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but reluctantly threw the coin at the man. He had already secured his stains and paints, and needed the wood right away. If Artyom was correct and the project was similar to the one he and his master did in Thyatis, it would take three days at least, and that was if there was no complication.

With his supplies secured though, Teryn had a good feeling about this. Just a couple of days of grunt work to insert the slats and screw in the overhead pulleys, another day for staining and painting the woods, and then he'll be half way to financial freedom. In fact, he was so sure of the success of his project, he could imagine buying himself a cottage; get a new horse, maybe find a wife.

The last thought gave him some pause. He's been with a few women in his life, but he never gave much thought to settling down. Who would he court? He needed something more than a giggling barmaid, or some flirty aristocrat's daughter. He envisioned himself with someone with character, strong mentally, and some ample breasts wouldn't hurt. He wasn't sure where to find such a woman, but first thing was first he needed to finish the blinds for the cathedral.

Teryn first waved down a carriage to speed him to the temple district. A chatty young man by the name of Henri loaded up his two big bags of tools and pulleys and then sped him quickly to his location. Teryn was afraid he would have to suffer through more dog sledding, but his ride was unlikely pulled by horses. Though the cold kept most horses in stables this time of year, the animals looked oddly cheerful and happy. Henri himself was an eager driver, and offered to tell him a tale of some great tiefling adventurer, but Teryn politely declined.

When he arrived at the cathedral he saw he wasn't the only craftsman hired there. Several artisans already had some tents outside, coordinating last minute efforts to restore the building. He recognized some of the workers, as their professional paths often passed, and a few gave him a wave in return. As Teryn looked around, his heart skipped a second when he couldn't see the wood he ordered, but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his rather large bundle being argued over by some of the guards and tradesman.

"Get this wood back into your correct stall. You're not the only one working here," said one of the temple guardians. He was armored in platemail and wore a blue robe with blue trimmings on top of it.

"This isn't my wood. I'm a brick layer you idiot," complained a worker. "It's probably some of master Percival's supply."

Teryn stepped between the two and held out his hands. "No need to argue. It's mine. I'm here to for the renovations and if you would excuse me, I have a pretty right schedule," he said as he cast a minor spell and created a levitating disk underneath the load of lumber before throwing his bags on top of them.

The guardian stared at Teryn through his slotted helm. "Who the hell are you? I've never seen you before."

"I am Teryn, of the Blindman. Expert in all things shutters," declared Teryn loud enough so all the other apprentices could go green with envy.

"I never heard of you. " The guardian shook his head and turned to the tradesman he was arguing with. "You ever heard of this guy?"

While Teryn didn't recognize the tradesman, he recognized Teryn. "Yeah, him and his master are blind makers."

"Former master," corrected Teryn proudly. "I'm a partner now."

The tradesman scoffed at Teryn's statement. "Well excuse me, Mr. Bigshot. If you've been hired for the renovations, you and your partner better get a move on, its opening in two days."

Teryn's jaw dropped. "Two days? I thought it was five. "

The tradesman gave an exaggerated laugh into Teryn's face. "It was changed a week ago. Didn't you and your partner get word of this. "

Teryn shook his head, two days or five. It didn't matter. He'll get it done. He won't let anything stop him from doing his job. The young craftsman took a step, but the temple guardian barred his path.

"Sorry, no one gets in unless he's on the list. Security you know," said the armored man.

"Look buddy. I don't care about your blasted list. I have to finish a four day job in two days. So, if you'll excuse me, you can let me do my work else when I don't get done, I'll say the guard with the tiny brain prevented me from finishing my contract," said Teryn angrily. The young craftsman was so mad, Nocker hopped on his shoulders and gave the man his best angry stare and hiss.

"You're not on the list," repeated the guardian as he pushed Teryn's chest back. Nocker dug his claws into Teryn, ready to jump at the guard, but Teryn held him back with a pet.

"I just saved your life there buddy," said Teryn. "Now, I'm reasonable. Since you don't care about your future and I need to work, I assume this is all a misunderstanding. Tell me how do I get on this list of yours."

The guard shook his head as Teryn grew more livid.

"Great. Now I have to find my employer and explain this situation. And even if this is resolved, I'll be behind a day. "

"Not my problem."

"Of course not, but I'm going to be sure to make it your problem. I'm gonna find that Bancroft guy and explain to him why I was delayed."

"Wait, did you say you were hired by the Baron of Bancroft,"asked the guard.

Teryn recalled Artyom saying he was the son of the old Baron of Bancroft, but wasn't sure if he would be classified as the current baron. Since Teryn wasn't sure on the exact hereditary passing of titles, he simply just shook his head and showed the man the remainder of the satchel of coins he was given as a retainer. "Look at that, Thyatian gold. Not as good as the Grommish crown, but still a well respected international currency."

The guard looked at the shiny gold coin, and then called over another guard. "This man says he's here to install blinds. He said the Baron of Bancroft hired him."

The other guard shrugged. "So let him in, they're already behind schedule."

"But..but..he's not on the list, "protested the first guard.

The second guard turned to the tradesman that the first guard was arguing with earlier. "Hey Jerry, do you know this guy?"

The tradesman nodded. "Yeah, he's been in the business for awhile now."

"So what's the problem?" said the second guard to the first guard before walking away.

The first guard mumbled something inaudible underneath his helmet, and simply waved Teryn in.

Teryn wanted to gloat over his victory, but he didn't have time for that. He glanced at what appeared to be a newly installed stain glass mural, complete with the skeletal scaffolding framework around it. It was forty feet high and at least sixty wide. It depicted the goddess Vanya in all her glory, leading an army of horned soldiers to do battle with some winged goons. The artisan who designed the glass, must have used magic since the picture seemed to slowly move on its own in a hypnotic pattern. It was all very epic looking as expected from the cathedral of Vanya, but more importantly it was much bigger than anything he expected.

Teryn's will was not shaken at the project. Instead he waved over one of the many pages running back and forth through the cathedral. "You there, I need your assistance."

"Yes sir," bowed the boy.

"First off, what's your name son?" asked Teryn as he began scribbling on a piece of parchment.

"Wally," said the boy nervously, unsure of what was expected of him.

Teryn then shoved his note into Wally's hand. "I need you to take this to the lumber yard. Find the merchant with the red cheeks, and the rat like face and tell him I'll need another order. Afterwards, scrounge me up some bread and cheese. Oh and a big cup of tea. I'm going to be here all night."

Wally looked at the list and nodded not sure what to do. His decision was quickly made for him, when Teryn flipped him a gold coin. The boy's eyes grew wide, before he ran off to complete his errands.

Teryn then looked at the big stain glass, and the section of roof above it. At least the scaffolding was in place he thought to himself as he cracked his knuckles and began to work.


	8. Chapter 8

"Frederick? Freddy is here in Grom?" asked Artyom in disbelief.

Oksana nodded as she picked out two drab looking green cloaks. She gave the merchant a silver, before tossing one of the garments to Artyom. "Put this on quick," she ordered before donning her own.

Artyom gave the cloak a look of revulsion but then did as he was told. "Frederick is here in Grom?" he asked again.

"Yes, I think I've served your family enough that I would recognize your brother. He was at the inn's lobby along with a small contingent of guards," she said.

"Is um..?"

Oksana sighed as she walked out of the store glanced both ways, before waving Artyom forward. "Yes, Kaden is here."

"Why? Why would he be here in Grom? Did he track me down?" asked a very tense Artyom as he followed Oksana down the street.

"Though your brother disapproves of your investigations against Count Petyr, I doubt he came all the way to Grom looking for you. He looked like he was simply checking in when I saw him. He didn't look like he was looking for you. Most likely he is here due to the opening of the cathedral. If they invited the Count of Vanif, then it makes sense that they invited the Baron of Bancroft."

Artyom considered the statement. "Is Count Darold here? Or maybe Baron Vintelli?"

"I am not certain," replied Oksana. " Are you thinking of talking to them? I do not recommend you present yourself to any of them, especially if Teryn completes his contract. You have gained a certain….reputation, in the nobility circle."

Artyom lowered his head. "Yes, I am well aware of what they are saying about me. I'm obsessive, irrational, crazy, paranoid…I get it. I realize I've been quite vocal about my thoughts of Count Petyr, and I can see why my fellow nobles have formed the opinions they have. If I was the baron and not Frederick, I am sure we would be at war with the County of Vanif right now. If Count Petyr dies and they are aware I'm in the city, I would be the first to be blamed. Still, I would like to know who out allies are and keep our options open."

Artyom expected a reply from Oksana but instead the big bodyguard grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a side street. "We're being followed," she warned as the pair quickened their pace.

Artyom did as he was told, his heart hopping. If Frederick really did find him, then he would surely send him back to Thyatis. He had butted heads with his brother ever since their father died, and admittedly had done many things to embarrass their family. Reputation however was trivial to Artyom given the injustice that was done to their father, but he still did not feel confident to confront his brother directly.

Oksana guided him into a large crowd, and just as they were leaving it, she ducked down and dragged Artyom into another side lane. The pair then pressed themselves against the wall and waited.

Artyom wondered if Kaden had spotted them, but his heart skipped when he saw a man with a golden robe walk past the alley. These weren't his brothers men. Were they the Counts? Or were they after him for saving Clara the other night? Did they track him all the way to Grom City? Artyom's mind was full of questions, but before he could sort them out Oksana yanked him again to follow her down another road.

Artyom glanced back and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no sign of the golden robe man. "Why is he following us?" asked Artyom after they ventured about a block inside the maze of alleys and back lanes.

"I'm not sure, but he was definitely trailing us," said Oksana. "I spotted him a while ago, but thought nothing of it until I spotted him again when we left the cloak store."

"Why so obvious then?" puzzled Artyom. "The guy is wearing golden robes. You'd think if he wanted to follow us or do us harm he would wear something less noticeable."

Oksana considered his statement and then shrugged. "A good point, maybe I'm just overly suspicious. Your encounter with those golden mages didn't help things."

"Or maybe a man in gold robes is the least obvious thing in Lower Lueders," said a dry whispery voice. Artyom glanced around and saw no sign of whomever made that statement. "In a city as diverse as this one, a man in golden robes blends in as much as two nobles in drab green cloaks.

Artyom was about to point out that he was the only noble here, when suddenly the space before them shimmered for a second before the air around them was ignited.

Artyom shielded his face from the incoming inferno, but felt the air knocked out of him when Oksana tackled him to the dirty snow. His head hit the ground hard and he gasped for air as the struggled to his feet.

"RAAAHHH!"

Artyom's mind snapped to focus as his bodyguard's barritus sounded in the alley. He glanced up and saw a golden mage had shimmered into view, with Oksana charging him with her enchanted blade held high. The mage held his ground as a more concentrated bolt of flame shot out from his hand and struck the warrior woman square in the chest. It reminded him of their encounter in the burning manor house, except instead of Oksana shrugging off the flames, she screamed in pain as her body was engulfed in fire.

The flames however did not stop her, Oksana fumbled a few steps forward, and swinging wildly at her opponent. The mage could have easily dodged it under normal circumstances, but the tight confines of the alley worked against him and he was caught by a grazing cut across the chest.

"Run," coughed Oksana as she attempted to press her advantage. Though the alley worked against the mage, it also worked in ways against the warrior woman. While dodging her attack was hard, it was difficult to recover from her great sword swings in this narrow passage and she was forced to jab at her opponent. The mage seized this opportunity as he simply stepped back from his now smouldering foe. His hand glowed blue before striking Oksana with a volley of blue bolts, sending Oksana toppling backwards.

Artyom shook the cobwebs off as he rolled to his knees and drew his rapier. Though Oksana told him to run, he charged. He didn't have a fancy battle cry or any delusions of his skill with his blade, but his noble blood wouldn't let him run when his friend needed him.

The mage drew a dagger, ready to finish off Oksana by more conventional means, when suddenly he was met with a web of steel from Artyom's rapier. While his swings were wild and undisciplined, the alley gave Artyom a distinct edge. Though the back lane restricted Oksana's larger swords movements, it was just wide enough for the nobleman to execute wild swings and lunges freely.

Artyom's first swing stabbed the mage in the shoulder, and the second one sliced down against the leg. The third blow however was stopped by a shimmering white shield that appeared out of thin air. Artyom tried to stab at it again, but the shield blocked his blow, and returned a forceful strike to his face. Artyom staggered back, tasting blood in his mouth as the wounded mage grinned ready to exact his retribution.

"You escaped my brothers before, you won't this time," said the mage as his hands began to glow white hot.

Artyom wanted to try to swing at the man's center again, but saw a different opportunity. He feinted a high swing, causing the spectral shield to follow his weapon, before lunging downwards, impaling the mage's foot. A beginner's duelist move, but effective nonetheless.

Artyom and the mage's shocked eyes locked, as the rapier was embedded in his foe's foot. Artyom smiled before he twisted his weapon and withdrew it. Not only did the rapier sliced a few of the mage's toes off, but more importantly it caught him off balance, and sent the man falling on his side before he could unleash his spell. Artyom didn't give him an opportunity to recover as he rushed forwards and gave the man a slice across the stomach.

He could have easily finished him off with a strike across the neck, or chance striking him in the head with the pommel of his blade, but Artyom was in a foul mood. This probably wasn't the man that killed his father, but to Artyom he was that and more. He was also the man that ambushed him in the alley, and the man that killed Oksana. The young noble wanted to watch this mage suffer, but something strange happened. The man's body began to smoke, and then immolate, before it combusted before his eyes, leaving nothing more than a dead husk in the alley.

"Arty..Artyom," came a cry from behind him.

Artyom turned and saw Oksana struggled to her feet. Parts of her flesh was charred black, and cracked leaving trails of blood along her skin. The spots where the blue bolts struck left cauterized but deep wounds on her chest and shoulder. The warrior woman fumbled at her pouch, but failed with her burned hands and fell to one knee.

Artyom ran to her side, and opened her potion pouch. He wasn't much on potions, he always thought they tasted bitter and foul, but recognized the red label for the healing potions. He gently poured one then another down Oksana's throat, before the bodyguard brushed him aside.

"Thanks," she said with laboured breath. "I'll be alright."

"I thought you were dead," said Artyom as he helped her up.

"I thought so too," she said as she leaned against the smaller man.

* * *

Artyom was both amazed and puzzled as he viewed the manor house. It was a large stately mansion, with a fair sized yard, given its urban location. The building itself was three stories, respectable in both its size and construction even compared to Thyatian standards. Besides the strange towering black and white predatory birds that adorned its roof, it looked like an upper end nobleman's house, something that Artyom would be proud to own. What was strange though, was that such a house often had an accompanying staff or at least guards. While the other manors and mansions in this neighborhood had the typical guards at the gate, this house seemed undefended.

There were signs of habitation of course, a trail of smoke from one of the chimneys, the snow was shovelled, and the house looked in good repair, but Artyom and Oksana managed to walk past the gate, through the courtyard, and up to the main door unchallenged. If this was his manor, Oksana or Kaden would have met any intruders at the gate and either escorted them or throw them out.

"Are you sure this is the place?" gasped Oksana. Though the potions got her back on her feet, Artyom thought she was still too injured to be useful in a fight, especially one against another golden robed mage.

Artyom nodded. "The locals, all say that this is Penguin Manor. I assume a penguin is one of those bizarre black and white birds guarding the roof. This country's version of a gargoyle I think."

Oksana shook her head. "Do you really think Teryn is staying here? This is where he said to meet right?"

"I expected something a bit more seedier myself, given his trade, but we both know the man operates in an unconventional manner," said Artyom before knocking on the door.

After a few seconds, the doors opened and Artyom found him before a muscular and handsome looking youth. He was dressed in a strange exotic dress, pantaloon pants, a flaring red sash, a billowy silk shirt, and a lace fez. He sported a well groomed pointed mustache and goatee. His skin was a dark olive, and he had black hair and clear blue eyes.

"Hello, can I help you?" asked the man in a strange feminine voice.

Artyom straightened up with Oksana still leaning on his side."My name is Artyom, I am looking for Teryn."

The youth's face softened. "Oh, you are one of Teryn's friends. Come in, come in. Err…is your friend alright, she looks hurt."

"I'm alright," gasped Oksana as she limped in under Artyom's care.

"I'll get the master, he has some skill in healing," said the youth, before vanishing into thin air.

Artyom blinked. Obviously magic was in use, but that seemed an excessive amount to use for a butler or servant or whatever that man was. Was Teryn residing in a wizard's abode? That would explain the lack of guards. The nobleman could well imagine the Penguins on the roof animating, and diving down to tear apart any invaders like the great raptors of the mountains.

After about a minute, a young man in a guard outfit hustled down the stairs with the silk wearing youth behind him. He was tall, with short dark hair and a wry look about him. He looked like a typical guard you can find around the city, save for a large stone warhammer at his side. "What happened he asked?" as he examined Oksana's wound.

"I ..I fell on the oven. Ooops," said Oksana forcing a smile on her face.

The guard looked confused but then shrugged. "Oh, okay. Kitchen accidents can be dangerous," he said before chanting a few words and bathing Oksana in a soft blue glow.

While Artyom wasn't able to wield magic of any sort, either arcane, divine, or the rare occult style, he did study its uses and limitations as a child. It was important knowledge to have to gauge the power and effectiveness of using and defending against magic in any kingdom. While curative magic was useful, it required higher forms of magic to cure diseases, remove poison, and even mend broken bones and burned skin. Like Oksana's potions, most healing spells would restore a portion of one's vitality but it would take extraordinary magic to full heal someone that had gone through the shock that Oksana had.

Despite knowing all the limitations of curative magic, Artyom was shocked at what he was seeing. Oksana's black skinned flaked off and was replaced with vibrant new skin. The deep gouges on her chest and shoulder reformed and knitted themselves anew before his eyes. Even some of Oksana's old battle scars, including the deep nick across her nose vanished. This man commanded healing magics of the highest order.

"I..I don't know what to say," said Oksana as she examined her revitalized body. "Thank you."

"That's alright," said the guard. "Just be more careful in the kitchen okay. Make sure you have good soles on your shoes so you don't slip and you make sure to clean up any oil that you might have spilled on the floor."

"You believed her story?" asked the youth in an irritated high pitched voice. "That was clearly a lie."

The guard was about to argue, then paused as if in deep thought, then gave Artyom and Oksana a disappointed look.

Oksana bowed before the man. "Yes,I am afraid I did lie. We were attacked by a golden mage in the streets. We weren't sure where to turn."

"You could have gone to the guard," said the youth.

Artyom cleared his throat and stepped in for Oksana. "I considered that, but I did not want to bring attentions to ourselves. You must understand this, given that you know Teryn's line of work. Also, in the end, we did go to the constabulary," he said pointing at the guard before them.

The guard scratched his head. "Umm, you're with Teryn then? Are you sure you are a craftsman? You don't look like a craftsman."

Artyom returned a puzzled look. "Eh, what are you talking about? Are we referring to the same Teryn."

"Young cocky guy, lives in Heldann, has a small dragon at his side?"

Artyom nodded.

"Yeah, the same gentleman. He came around this morning, said he a big contract and wanted to stay for awhile. I'm good friends with his master so obviously I had Yasmina here prepare a room,"explained the guard.

"Yasmina?" asked Artyom and gave the youth a second look. The man looked like he was from Ylarrum, but Yasmina was clearly a woman's name. H Though he dressed like a woman, he appeared to be a man. Artyom scrutinized his appearance closely to see if he was mistaken, but gave up when he saw no feminine traits.

" Oh, and my name is Fetch," said the guard. He then waved at the mansion around them. "Welcome to Penguin Manor."


	9. Chapter 9

"Ohmga, Ohmga, Ohmga."

Teryn flinched as he rolled to his side in a vain attempt to muffle the noise. The chanting was making it hard to sleep.

"Ohmga,Ohmga, Ohmga."

Teryn tried wrapping his arms around his head, but a sharp pain finally brought him to consciousness.

"Ohmga,Ohmga, Ohmga."

Teryn looked and saw Nocker digging his claws, painfully scratching his side. For a second he was unsure of where he was, and then he recalled the events of the day.

Besides a late start securing his wood and lacquers, some snooty guard gave him trouble at the door, and something about the deadline was shortened to a mere two days. Teryn remembered working overtime late through the night, another argument with the same guard to vacate the premises, and hiding out till everyone left so he could complete his work.

Sometime after that he must have fallen asleep, and now he couldn't even catch a nap due to the infernal chanting.

"Ohmga,Ohmga, Ohmga."

Teryn looked up and saw there was some sort of ceremony being done around the cathedral's altar. A bunch of guys in golden robes were chanting and involved in some sort of pagan dancing. Teryn watched, fascinated at the proceedings, when two golden robed men brought in a struggling boy to the altar. Nearby, seating on a palanquin being held by four scantily clad women, was an old geezer with oddly bent legs.

Teryn rolled his eyes. It was going to be that type of ceremony. While many churches and religions had strict moral codes on sexual conduct, it was rumored that many priests often broke these rules by involving themselves with small boys, orgies, and apparently in this case both. Teryn didn't want any part of this and simply turned his back on this affair. The faster he could finish his project the better.

"Stop," said a dry voice. "I saw something by the window."

The chanting stopped and was replaced by some murmuring.

Teryn sighed. They must have saw him. The craftsman reluctantly stood up waving his arms in the air, as Nocker hopped off him and darted under a pile of wood. "Okay, you got me. I know I wasn't supposed to be in the church after work hours, but I needed to finish this project, especially given your shortened work schedule," he said to the dozen or so golden robed men and women approaching him.

"Wait , you look familiar," said the old man with the twisted legs. He waved his bearers to approach and stopped ten feet from Teryn. The old man glanced at what Teryn was working at and then at Teryn himself. "I know you, but I can't place it."

Teryn stared at the old man. He wasn't just old, he was ancient. Besides his weathered skin, and what looked like lame legs, his body was covered in rough stiches, scars, and frightful looking bone spurs. Despite his deformities, the man did look familiar.

"Wait, I know you," wheezed the old man. "You're that artisan that installed those blinds for me in the senate last year."

Teryn stared again at the old man and finally recognized him. He looked a lot rougher than when they had previously met, but Teryn was fairly certain it was the same man. "Wait. I remember you. You're that nice senator Flavius fellow. How did those shutters work out for you?

The senator grinned. "They were fantastic. They kept the light out, and kept the cool in. Just like you said they would. That mural with the conquest of Karamekios was a nice touch as well. It was quite the center piece for my office, a real conversation starter. Pity I had so little time to enjoy it."

"You were voted out of power? I thought senators were appointed for life or something like that."

The senator shrugged. "We are, but unfortunately I was assassinated."

"Assassinated?" gulped Teryn.

Flavius laughed. "As you can see, I've gotten much better. Though it wasn't simple. The man that dispatched me, made my resurrection very difficult."

Some of the golden robe worshippers laughed as well, before others joined in. Even Teryn laughed, not because the senator was funny, but because he wanted to fit in.

"So….what brings you to Grom?" asked the senator as his old but piercing eyes locked onto Teryn's.

Teryn felt a strange power wash over him. He felt the urge to speak the truth, but he didn't necessary feel the urge to lie anyways. "I live here. Well not here, but about five days north west of here. I'm here to install these blinds that I was contracted to make."

"There are no plans to have blinds installed," declared a big golden robed man that stepped out from his fellows. While the man's face was hidden under a cowl, Teryn could tell the man smacked of gold by the jewelry that adorned his hands.

Senator Flavius held out his hands and the big man stopped. "Silence. Let us hear what…."

"Teryn."

"Teryn has to say," said Senator Flavius.

"I was contracted to install blinds at the cathedral," said Teryn. Though he would have answered that anyways he felt himself compelled to say it. It was a strange sensation, sort of like running towards the bottom of a hill.

"By whom may I inquire?" asked Flavius.

"Some noble guy from Thyatis. I think he was a baron or the son of a baron. I wasn't really listening. My mind was wandering when he was giving me his boring life story. All I know is that he paid me half already."

Flavius turned to the big man. "Are you sure you did not hire him. My spell compels him to speak the truth."

The big man shook his head, and then shrugged. "I..I can't remember. I've hired a lot of tradesman during the past few weeks to meet our deadline. It's been a stressful time. I might have hired him or one of my men might have, but I don't really recall ordering any shutters. I mean just look at the stained glass we just put in. It's beautiful. Why do we want to cover them up?"

Teryn laughed and pointed at the stain glass. "Sure this looks good now, but what about on a hot day. Everyone inside is going to sweat it out. And let's not forget about the Grommish winters. I don't mean this minor cold snap we have right now. I mean when it gets so cold that metal freezes to exposed flesh, or when it reaches the point where people stop getting sick and just keel over instead. "

Flavius chuckled at Teryn's words. "The man has a point. I believe his story, but there's a problem."

Teryn raised an eyebrow as the senator's face tightened and took on a grim visage. "As you can probably guess, we aren't exactly a common sec of Vanya worshippers. In fact, we aren't even Vanya worshippers at all. We're more of a cult that operates from the shadows. Since you've seen us, I'm afraid we can't let you…."

"Wait, can I join you guys?" interrupted Teryn. He didn't want to get kicked out, and these guys looked rich. Just looking at their fancy robes and jewelry was proof enough of that. If he could get within their circle, who knows what contracts he could secure. He always wanted to network with the rich and famous, and now was his chance.

Flavius gave Teryn an amused look and locked his eyes with his again. "Why do you wish to join? To save your self?"

Again Teryn felt compelled to tell the truth, and again Teryn had no problem telling it. "Save my self? I don't care much about the religious crap. I just want to get ahead in the world. I'm not big on the kids and I might participate in an orgy or two, but I just want to be someone, not just a mere craftsman."

Flavius and the big man in the robes exchanged looks, and then both shrugged. "Well, you seem honest enough about your intentions and getting ahead is what we are about. I like your pluck son, and wouldn't mind adding some new blood to our little circle. Luckily for you, tomorrow is one of our most unholy days. You can be fully initiated tomorrow."

Teryn wasn't sure what to say. First a big contract, and now he had the chance to join some noble clique. This was going better than expected.

"Welcome to coven of the Yellow Lord," declared senator Flavius. Some of the congregation murmured to themselves, but the rest cheered Teryn on.

Teryn was quite taken back by the attention, but he did manage a question. "So, when do I get one of these sweet looking robes?"


	10. Chapter 10

In the pantry of Penguin Manor, Yasmina sliced several pieces of cold cuts and placed them on a plate for Artyom and Oksana. The warrior woman hungrily devoured slice after slice, and washed it down with some wine.

"This is an impressive place you have here sir," complimented Artyom as he sampled a piece. It was spicy and not too salty, just the way he liked it. He tasted the wine, and was very impressed with its body, aroma and fruity flavor.

"Do you like that? I brew it myself during our brief summer. Oh and I don't own this place. I just ummm…a house sitter I guess you can call it," explained Fetch. "Trust me, I can't afford this on my Captain's salary."

Artyom looked again at Fetch's uniform, and saw indeed it was different than that of a typical city guard. "Your master must be an important person indeed to have someone of your abilities to watch over it."

"Reinhardt is more of a friend," explained Fetch. "If you look around this place, you can see some of his portraits and that of his …err companion Amirah."

Artyom recalled seeing several paintings of a thin regal looking gentleman with pale skin and white hair, and also of a radiant looking elf woman with flowing red hair.

"Lovers," corrected Yasmina as he sighed blissfully.

"Err.. ok. Whatever you say," shrugged Fetch. "I'm not really sure how it works between those two, but enough of that, tell me again how you know Teryn, and more importantly is he in trouble."

Given the secretive nature of their business, Artyom wasn't sure if he should say anything to this guard, the fact that he was a captain made it an even riskier proposition. However, he did come to their aid when they were in a dire situation. Also he was a friend of Teryn, which meant that he was probably privy to his unsavory line of work. Artyom exchanged glances with Oksana and sought her opinion. The warrior woman simply nodded for him to proceed.

"I am Artyom of house Bancroft, and this is my bodyguard Oksana," explained the nobleman.

"Really? I could have sworn you were brother and sister," interrupted Fetch. "Oops, don't mind me continue."

Artyom looked at Oksana. Brother and sister? Absurd.

"Anyways, I hired Teryn to ….do a contract for me against Count Petyr. It seemed pretty simple, but while we waited for him to complete his work, we were attacked by a golden robed mage," said Artyom. "The man spotted us, followed us down an alley, and threw his fire and magic at us. We were lucky to survive."

Fetch nodded. "Sounds like one of those Yellow lord guys. I would round up everyone that wore those golden robes, but some of them are just bad fashion victims. I'm aware of these guys by the way, they're some type of cultists that worship a strange god. Not that all gods aren't strange, for the longest time I thought my god was a big boulder, but that's not surprising given most people pronounce his name Rock."

"That's Rawk," corrected Yasmina.

"Anyways, so what's the connection to Teryn? " asked Fetch.

"I'm not sure if there is any connection. I have a history with these golden mages. They killed my father a few months ago in Thyatis and I met a few in the ruins of Upper Lueders a few nights ago."

"Hmm, Upper Lueders? Were they the same guys or just some guys wearing tacky robes?"

"I believe they belonged to the same sect. They kidnapped a girl and attempted to sacrifice her to a pack of ghouls," said Artyom.

"You stopped them I hope?" asked Fetch.

"Artyom did his duty," said Oksana with a proud grin.

"Good," nodded Fetch. "Hmm, this is useful information. I'll set out to Upper Lueders with a detachment tomorrow morning. I've been trying to root these guys out a while ago. I tried magic to snoop them out, but they were shielded. Not that I trust divination magic anyways, but it would have been a start."

Artyom bowed. "I'm glad to be of service good sir."

Fetch smiled. "I'm just glad Teryn isn't in any trouble. I am good friends with his master Earl, and the last thing I want is his apprentice hurt."

Artyom looked puzzled. "Wait, I thought Teryn's job always placed him in trouble. Given the secrecy of his work."

Fetch returned Artyom's puzzled look. "Err….what type of trouble can you get in by installing shutters."

"Shutters?" asked Oksana who now also sported the puzzled look.

"Wait, wait. Are you guys talking in code here?" asked Yasmina. "We're talking about Teryn right. Your friend Earl's apprentice. The guy which does lawn keeping and house painting?"

Fetch was about to say something and then fell silent and then he began saying something again, but once again fell quiet. He finally turned to Yasmina and shook his head. "I need you to leave the room. This is umm..a private conversation."

Yasmina frowned and pouted a little, before the youth vanished into thin air.

Fetch then turned to Artyom and Oksana with a grim look on his face. "Who told you that Teryn was an assassin?"

Teryn was stunned. This Fetch person knows. He wanted to say something to cover his tracks, but found he couldn't in this man's presence. "I needed an assassin. The best I could buy. A grave injustice was done to my family, and the culprit hides in plain view from the law. If my vengeance would not by sated by regular means I mean to…"

"Yes, yes I get it. You needed an assassin to solve your problems. Look I understand. I'm a captain of the guard here in Lower Lueders, and I can't even begin to tell you how much scum get away with due to bureaucracy and knowing the right people. It's pretty disheartening but I do what I can. If someone takes the law in their own hand, how can I deny them this. Though I do admit that's probably the first step towards anarchy and the complete break down of civilization, but sometimes that's all we are left with," said Fetch. "Now, tell me who told you that Teryn was an assassin."

Artyom blinked. He was even more confused than ever. At first he was given the impression that Fetch believed Teryn was a simple craftsman, and now he reveals that he knows he's an assassin. Yasmina obviously did not know what was going on, and Artyom wondered if he understood any better. Was there that many cloaks of secrecy involved in this dark profession?

"I paid money to find information on 'The Blindman'. A dwarf with a ..how shall we say…fearsome underworld reputation. "

"Hoaglie," said Fetch. "It must be him."

"This dwarf pointed me out to the town of Heldann, and told me to find the legendary 'Blindman', ironically in a store called the Blindman. He told me there I would find the legendary assassin that slays indiscriminately," said Artyom. He wasn't sure why he was telling all this to the Captain of the Guard, but somehow he felt compelled to. He wasn't sure if the man was employing some magic, or the fact he simply wanted to find out what was going on for himself.

Fetch closed his eyes, placed his hands behind his head, and began to rock. "Well, he's not incorrect. That is where the Grandfather of Assassins resides right now. I don't know what other aliases he goes by, but the Blindman sounds appropriate. So, you find Earl, and you hire Teryn instead?"

Artyom nodded." Yes, this Yarl character was out of town but Teryn claimed he trained under his master and was a full fledged Blindman. At the time I thought he meant he had membership in some league of assassins. Did I err in judgement. Is Teryn's skills not as honed as we were lead to believe? "

Fetch sighed. "Look, I don't involve myself in Earl, or Yarl, or whatever he calls himself now's business. I've known him a long time, and believe me you don't want to cross him. He is the scariest man I know, and coming from me that's saying a lot. But that was the past, and he told me he wanted to move on. In fact I thought he gave up that bloody trade a while ago. A condition of the woman he's courting. A paladin if you can believe it. To my knowledge, he went legit, gave up professional killing, and opened a blind making shop. I bet he called it the Blindman, because he thought it was funny. Earl has a weird sense of humor. He took Teryn as an apprentice a few years ago, but strictly as an artisan. He didn't teach him how to ambush people and stab them in the back, or whatever else he does. Or at least that's what I was led to believe."

"I see the pair more often now than in the old days. Earl and Teryn passed through here every couple of months, but mainly to do contract work in Grom City, Thyatis, and wherever else they need his custom blinds and shutters. They made quite a reputation for themselves for their quality work."

"I told him I wanted a contracted done at the cathedral of Vanya, he readily accepted," protested Artyom.

"He probably thought, he wanted blinds to be set up there. That's why he brought all the pulleys and gears," sighed Oksana. "He wasn't making some elaborate trap, he needed them to construct his shutters."

Artyom was speechless as he tried to comprehend what Captain Fetch was saying. "So, you're telling me instead of hiring an assassin, I hired the assassin's cover? The man that the assassin uses to detract from his actual profession. A simple craftsman?"

Fetch scratched his head. "Well, it sounds kinda bad when you put it that way. However, there should be no harm done."

"Eh? "

Fetch shrugged. "Well, even though you attempted to hire a paid killer, the bottom line is you didn't. I do have the authority to imprison you or something, but I get the sense you two are good people forced to do bad things. So I'll refrain from doing so. It sounds arbitrary on my part, and it probably is, but that's the way I see it. Also you gave me a hard lead on those Yellow Lord cultists. I've been after those murders for a while now. I'd overlook your actions simply because of that. As for Teryn, right now he's at the cathedral of Vanya installing blinds. What harm can come of that?"

Artyom didn't know what to say. He was half way between crying and laughing.


	11. Chapter 11

From his work history in renovations, Teryn knew that all these old buildings had various sublevels and basements. Most of them were used for storage as a cool place for sundry items, a couple used them as a miserable place to house prisoners, some were simply empty and gathered dust, but the religious buildings were the worse. They were often used as catacombs and places for the locally deceased to rot away. While most southern territories often just buried their dead in massive graveyards, Grommers were not given that luxury eight months of the year. The cold made the ground so hard, that they were often stored in the local church, where lye was sprinkled on them to strip the flesh, leaving easily stored bones. True, the rich often used magic or simply an abundance of man power to place their bodies in proper cemeteries, but for most of the year, the working poor often had to call on the church to dispose of their dead loved ones.

Teryn was mostly a windows man, but sometimes he had to install drapes in place of a door. He did enough religious work to know the vastness of the catacombs that some held. He was in a monastery at Porlock's Port that was reputed to hold forty thousand skeletons, and another at Oceansend that had double that. It was all very chilling for the young craftsman, but for some reason he felt no fear or revulsion today as he followed Senator Flavius into the depths of the cathedral.

Teryn evoked a minor light spell, but even his magic waned in the darkness that engulfed this place. Where it should have been as bright as a lantern, all Teryn could produce was a candle's flicker.

Teryn wasn't sure why, but he trusted Flavius. Trusted him enough to consider him a friend, his best friend , even though he had only met him twice. Despite the man's twisted and crippled appearance, there was nothing at all repugnant about him in Teryn's eyes. In fact, he was sure he would do anything that was asked of him, including following the man into the darkness.

"You know Teryn, the Yellow Lord works in mysterious ways," said Flavius as his porters carried him and his palanquin through the skull lined corridors. " Today I had a problem, and you showed up out of nowhere to solve it. I think that must be more than coincidence don't you think."

"Yes sir," replied Teryn. Though Teryn was eager to please his friend, he couldn't help but to stare down a cistern they were passing through. Instead of water at the bottom though, the craftsman only saw a pile of neatly arranged skulls. Teryn thought he should be screaming and running at that point, but for some reason he was compelled to follow the cripple further under the cathedral.

"You see Teryn, though we call this the Church of Vanya it is in fact simply a ruse. This holy ground has always been dedicated to the Church of the Yellow Lord. Many small minded individuals have looked down on our religion, but we are masters of deception. We simply rename and mask our worship in the guise of another religion so that the true sons of the Yellow Lord can grow and prosper. Not that it is hard to do. Once people listen to our Lord's preachings, they find themselves …how shall we say, compelled to follow."

Teryn nodded blankly. He wasn't sure why, but this didn't feel right but at the same time, felt like the rightest thing he had ever done.

"In Thyatis we secretly converted a good many nobles to our cause, but many eluded our grasp. Yes, we managed to place some of our worshipers within their ranks, but their closed aristocratic ways were too hard for us to penetrate. We had some success though. We did engineer the death of a certain baron, so we can replace him with his son that had already fallen under our sway. We also started a fair bit of infighting to weaken their ranks, but in the end I was careless. My private indiscretions proved my downfall. In a city of infinite perversions, somehow my obsession with prostitutes and children singled me out as a target for an assassin. "

Teryn cringed as Flavius recalled his exploits, but he could forgive his friend. Couldn't he?

"I was ambushed in my study. Stabbed in the back, and cut into many pieces. Simple raise the dead spells or even arcane cloning techniques could not bring me back from the beyond. Fortunately for me, a deal with an efreet and a contract from the depths below brought me back into my current form. "

Teryn studied Flavius. His body was covered in painful looking stitches and scars. His friend must have been very brave or very dedicated to continue such a painful looking life.

"After my resurrection, I knew I had to be a bit more discrete about the way my brothers and I operated. We relocated outside of Thyatis, to this old church of ours. The Grommers didn't seem to care, as long as we threw them enough gold and didn't commit too many atrocities in their streets. We were even supplied with a steady stream of undead a mere two days west of here. However, as a religion, we aren't interested in merely surviving. We wanted to thrive. Though Grom would be an easy land to conqueror, we moved away from it years ago to set our eyes on our real prize of Thyatis. The center of the world for all intents and purposes. However to do so, we needed to break into their aristocratic ranks. As I said before, we had some success but we needed someone influential. A Duke, or in our case a Count must be converted into our fold."

"As it stands, we invited a certain Count Petyr, a foolishly pious man, to help consecrate this renovated cathedral to that of that powerless goddess Vanya. While we were successful in luring him here, there is the problem with his guards. Count Petyr is not a well-liked man in Thyatis, and has survived fellow assassinations attempts from his fellow nobles. He had brought himself a strong contingent of duelists and mages to protect himself in Grom, and it makes my goal of …converting….him, how shall we say difficult."

"As you saw when you intruded in our ceremony, most of our contingent are nobles and important personages of some repute. Count Petyr would not let his guard down in their presence. For a while, it seemed like our efforts were wasted, but then you came along. "

Teryn felt flattered when Flavius mentioned him. He would do anything to help his friend out of whatever trouble he had found himself in.

"I could have hired mere thugs, or some other catspaws, but I dare not risk failure against the Count. We would only be given once chance to …convert… him , and he would flee at the first sign of danger. I needed someone that he had not met before, someone that would be able to get his guard down, but also someone I could trust. With you, I sense a strong drive to improve your lot in life, a mercenary attitude that would fit right in our little congregation. While you lacked the proper bloodlines and breeding, the Yellow Lord would forgive this if you accomplish a task for him."

The palanquin stopped, as the roof of the catacomb grew lower. The scantily clad women set down the litter, and the strongest looking one amongst them, gentle scooped up Flavius and carried him in her arms while the other three waited. Teryn followed the woman and the senator as they ventured through a short maze of tunnels and corridors, until the three stopped at a black door. Not just a dark door, or a door painted black, but for all intents and purposes a door that absorbed all the light that made contact with it.

The woman walked through the blackness, and disappeared completely into its depths. For a second, Teryn hesitated. He wanted to scream and run back to the surface, wherever that was. He wasn't sure if he could find his way back, but it seemed like a better course of action than to walk through a portal of pure darkness.

Just as Teryn was about to lose his senses, Flavius' voice echoed through the room. "Come Teryn," he said, instantly settling the craftsman.

Teryn, at the senator's urgings, walked through the portal and experienced a brief sensation of numbness. It was like drifting through a cold nothingness. When he emerge through the other side he was surprised to see the woman had placed the senator on a cushion sitting before a small shrine that was surrounded by candles of various shapes and colors. The simple shrine was unremarkable save for what looked like a yellow piece of garment, and some ancient parchment with strange scribbles on it.

"This is the heart of our religion Teryn. A scrap of cloth from when the last avatar of the Yellow Lord visited us, and some of his writings we managed to preserve that weren't burned by witch hunters and other so called do gooders," sighed Flavius. The senator then reached for one of the pages, studied them carefully, before beginning an incomprehensible chant.

Teryn wasn't sure how long the man babbled, or why he was hypnotized by it. He wasn't sure if it was a minute or an hour, but at the end of the strange ceremony a piece of darkness materialized in Flavius' hand. Teryn stared at the object and then blinked, before the darkness formed itself into a plain looking dagger. Flavius examined the weapon, and tested its balance, before swiftly plunging it into the woman's heart. Teryn watched powerlessly as if in a trance. The woman did not scream, but seemed to shrivel before Teryn, before falling silently on her side.

The senator then turned to Teryn and presented him with the object. "I'm afraid I wasn't being quite truthful to you Teryn, though in some respects I am treating you in higher regard than many of those noble fools that follow me. Most of my followings have never been in this room, nor do they realize the full extent of the commitment required by the Yellow Lord. I'm afraid your initiation won't be tomorrow night, but it will be soon. I just said that, to placate the less squeamish and weaker stomach members of my flock. They think, I'll just use my magic to charm Count Petyr, but that won't work given his guards. Most of them follow the teachings of the Yellow Lord as a confirmation of their superiority, but you my friend, you wish to follow him to advance your station in life. A noble enough goal."

Teryn wasn't sure if he agreed with Flavius or not. He indeed wanted a higher purpose in life, but not this. This was something obscene, something vile. He simply wanted a better job, some regular customers, maybe a wife to love. Not this crazy ass cult nonsense. Still, the senator was quite convincing, and he was his best friend after all.

"There can be no progress without sacrifice, no gain without suffering. While any of my followers would raise the Count's suspicions, you present me with an opportunity. The Count is doing renovations on one of his many manors. I need you to use your provincial charm and play the struggling artisan to ply your trade. When he lets his guard down, slay him with the dagger. While I could not bend his will in life, subjugating one in death is another matter," explained Flavius as he passed the dagger to Teryn.

Teryn took the weapon and slipped it in his tool belt.

"Are we clear on this?" asked Flavius.

"Yes sir, " replied Teryn as he picked up the senator and walked through the darkness once again.

Teryn wanted to laugh out loud, but refrained from doing so because of the respect he had for his best friend. The man wanted Teryn, a simple craftsman to kill someone like he was a highly trained killer. It was ridiculous actually. Who the hell would actually think he was an assassin?


	12. Chapter 12

Artyom stared down at the floor of the coach. He was too ashamed to look up.

"We should get a change of clothes, something other than different colored cloaks," said Oksana as they rode towards another inn that Fetch had recommended.

Artyom ignored her and continued to stare at the floor. How could he be so stupid? How could he be so far out of his league, to hire a simple craftsman thinking he was some master assassin? It's not like Teryn encouraged him, there was enough hints to see him for what he was, but Artyom was too blinded by his own ego to see what a mistake he made. The gears and pulleys, the small fee, Teryn's lack of weapons, all explained by the most spurious leaps of logic on Artyom's part, while the answer was so simple it was embarrassing to admit.

"We should lay low, probably stay that way till Frederick and Count Petyr are finished their business," continued Oksana.

A few months of skirting around criminals, and he thought he was a master crook himself. Throwing money around to hire killers like it was second nature. He should have been back at the Barony, using that gold to improve the lot of those he lorded over. That would have truly honored his father, not this mad, immature, childish, juvenile….

"Artyom? Artyom? Are you listening to me?" asked Oksana.

Artyom blinked several times to snap himself out of his fugue before raising his eyes towards Oksana. "Where did I go wrong? Why was I so stupid?"

Oksana shook her head. "People make mistakes when they want to believe in something greater. At least your mistake only made you look foolish in front of Captain Fetch. "

Artyom rolled his eyes. "Yes, that makes me feel much better. For a lesser man that would be sufficient, but I am a Bancroft. I still have to face myself and what I have done. How could I have deluded myself so much to get to this point?"

Oksana sighed. "It's not all your fault. I supported you throughout this endeavor. It is as much your fault as it is mine."

Artyom chuckled. "Let's get this straight here. I don't want to sound condescending here, but I am the lord and you are my bodyguard. I am expected to do the leading, while you are expected to do the following."

Oksana grinned in return. "First off, you failed. That was genuine condescension right there. Secondly, I could have ended this anytime I want. I am tasked to guard you, and that includes protecting you from yourself. However, I must admit I believe in your cause and your theories."

Artyom snorted. "Really? Then you are a bigger fool than me. I'm not even sure anymore if the attack on the manor was deliberate or simply an organized attack by bandits. We've found no hard evidence that Count Petyr was responsible for my father's death. Only hints and suggestions. And from those rumors, I've sailed across the world to hire a window maker to kill the man. "

"Technically he's less of a glass worker and more of a carpenter," corrected Oksana before her eyes lowered. "I didn't want to tell you this for fear that it would fuel your paranoia, but I was warned of the attack."

"Eh?"

"The night of the attack, my shift was over and I was about to retire to my room, when I found a letter on my bed. I'm not sure who wrote it, but it told me to leave right away. Well, as you know I didn't. I gathered my sword and potions, and the next thing I knew the manor was on fire."

Artyom shook his head and stared at Oksana. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

Oksana shrugged. "Like I said, I didn't want to fuel your paranoia. You were already angry enough. Also, you treaded dangerously close to getting yourself in real trouble. Not with those backroom thieves we were dealing with, but with your brother. If you had any hard evidence you would have forced the point with Frederick, and he would have locked you away. You of all people should know how dangerous politics is. "

"But..but.. you had evidence to support my accusations. Surely the emperor would have."

".. he would have ignored you. All I had was a piece of paper with a warning. That doesn't prove anything. And also the operative word is had. I lost it during the fire," sighed Oksana as she lowered her eyes from Artyom's gaze.

Artyom tilted his head back and rubbed his temples. "Maybe Frederick is right. Maybe I should just let it go. Father is dead, and I can't change that. Maybe I should focus on moving forward instead of dwelling on the murky past."

Oksana shook her head. "I am sworn to the service of you and your family. If you wish to continue this I will gladly…"

Artyom held an open hand up. "No. Let's just stop running. Frederick is in town. Let's just tell him about this, leaving out the part of hiring the fake assassin of course. Freddy would never let me live that down."

Oksana raised an eyebrow at Artyom. "Are you sure of this? This doesn't sound like the over eager and reckless Artyom I know."

"Well, maybe it isn't. Maybe that Artyom is tired of failing and making a fool of himself," shrugged the young nobleman.

Oksana frowned at Artyom. She then rapped the top of their coach.

"Yes?" asked the short teamster.

"A change of plans," said Oksana. "Take us to the temple district. "

"Yes ma'am," replied the teamster as the their coach braked and turned around.

Artyom closed his eyes and rested on his seat. Soon this will be over.


	13. Chapter 13

"Hurry up," ordered Frederick as he marched through the cathedral's early morning chaos.

Teryn did as commanded, but only grudgingly. While he had met many entitled members of the nobility before, there was something especially condescending and belittling in this man's tone. Even Senator Flavius treated Teryn with some respect, though he didn't really need to. He was his best friend after all.

As Frederick and Teryn weaved through the workers making their last minute alterations and finishes, a towering squared jaw guard pushed his way through towards the pair.

"I've arranged a tour for Count Petyr," said the big man in a low voice. "He has a pair of swords and a wand with him."

"Excellent Kaden," nodded Frederick. He then panned across the mass construction. "Which trivial piece of work are you in charge of?"

Teryn gritted his teeth. Did he just call his blinds trivial? His work was insulted. He would have taunted him back, but that probably wouldn't make his friend Flavius happy. Instead Teryn simply smiled and pointed at the prominent blinds he had installed last night.

Frederick looked confused. "You put blinds above the stain glass? Why would you do that? Wouldn't that just obscure the art?"

Teryn gritted his teeth again. "The blinds themselves are a work of art, and they serve in a utilitarian role as well as an aesthetic one. They keep the heat out during the day, as well as retaining warmth at night."

Frederick shrugged. "Whatever you say. I just need you to act busy in front of your special blinds there. When Count Petyr comes, I will introduce you to him, make up some flowery praise to deem you worthy for his attention. I need you to converse with the man till his guards let you in closer, till you are given an opportunity to use the dagger given to you. Do you understand this or do I have to say it slower?"

Teryn nodded slowly even as he glared at Frederick. It seemed like an elaborate plan to kill the man. If they really needed him dead it would be easier to do so in a private place, out of sight. This plan seems to make it a public execution. If Flavius wasn't his best friend, Teryn might have suspected that he was being set up to take the fall or something.

"Ahh, there's the Count now," said Frederick after being nudged by Kaden. "Remember act busy," he said before walking off to greet their victim.

Teryn wasn't sure what to do. He first picked up a hammer, and pantomimed striking an object. When they grew increasingly inane, he just leaned over and nodded at the joints of various projects, attempting to inspect them visually.

"Oww," yelped Teryn as he hopped back. Sharp claws dug into his shoulders. He turned and saw it was Nocker. The small dragon sniffed him once, pointed his nose at the approaching Frederick, and then hissed menacingly towards him.

"It's alright my friend," said Teryn as he dug out a morsel of cheese from his pack. "I'm just helping a friend."

Teryn's assurances did not seem to appease Nocker. The beast sniffed him again, before swatting the snack away and biting his fingers.

"Oww," yelped Teryn again as he stuck his injured fingers in his mouth. "What's gotten into you?"

Nocker began hacking and hissing, but stood still for a second when Frederick finally returned with Count Petyr and his contingent behind him. The dragon stared at Frederick before darting back into the shadows.

"..and here we have a shining example ….of err… Northern folk craft, no...umm..artistry," said Frederick choosing his words carefully. "Though not as impressive as Thyatian artisans, the man's crafts do have some local charm."

Count Petyr was an older man with square shoulders, appearing quite different than Frederick or even Artyom. He had a ruddy complexion and did not have that noble flair Teryn was accustomed to from a person in his position. He wore a simple but well-made tunic, and besides a signet ring, did not adorn himself with anything indicating his rank.

"What does this man make? Did he make that window?" asked the Count.

Teryn bowed and pointed at the contraption near the roof. "No sir. I make blinds."

The Count stared at the roof and then at Teryn. "Well, let's see it then. You're the only 'artist' that appears finished here. Everyone else is way behind walking with their thumbs up their ass. I want to see what all my patronage has bought. "

Frederick wasn't sure what to say, but Teryn smiled broadly. The young craftsman walked up to a heavy cord before yanking it slightly and pulling it. Large wooden slats began to lower and fan into place. The entire Cathedral stopped, as Teryn's beautiful creation slid into position, covering the stain glass with a horizontal fence of planks. When the blind was completely lowered, Teryn offered the cord to the Count, but one of his body guards blocked his path.

"Just turn it," instructed Teryn as he offered the cord again.

Count Petyr was hesitant, but he waved off his guard and stepped up to grab the cord. With a simple twist, the slats all moved simultaneously, forming a mural of the golden Thyatian eagle above the crossed swords of Vanya. Teryn originally planned to paint a mural of one of a great battle, but he opted for a simple national and religious symbol instead given his reduced schedule. From the gasps and claps he heard around the cathedral he knew he made the right choice.

"Well done. Great job Teryn. Excellent craftsmanship," murmured the crowd of his peers.

Count Petyr twisted the cord again and the slats shifted again, revealing the window behind it. He then raised and lowered it himself before nodding.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful," said the Count as he gazed up at Teryn's creation. "This reminds me of something I saw at the Capital once. Did you ever work in Thyatis in the senate building?"

"Yes my lord," replied Teryn, basking in the glow. As all the nobles and his peers looked on, at that moment Teryn realized it wasn't just the gold that spurred him on, it was the act of creating something beautiful that inspired others. For a second he reconsidered if he needed to join Flavius' group to further his career, but then he recalled how much is best friend depended on him.

Count Petyr tapped the wood and nodded. "It's treated lumber, lacquered. This serves as an insulant if my guess is correct. A practical way to save on heating, without boarding it up."

Teryn was impressed by the man's knowledge but had to add his two bits. "It also repels the sun during the summer to keep out the heat."

"Very nice. However, the mechanism up top seems a bit top heavy. You might want to lighten it a bit, or reinforce the supports," noted the Count.

Teryn frowned at the criticism. He hated being lectured, but he did recall master Yarl mentioning something to that effect as well. "I'll look into it," was his only comment.

Petyr nodded again. "It's still amazing though. You said you did some work in Thyatis before? I might have to commission you to do some work in my keep. We have a ball room with a big window facing north, but it costs a fortune heating the damn thing in the winter. I would just board the whole thing up, but the wife insists on showing the damn thing off. Hell, I should get you to put her damn face on the thing, that should keep her happy."

"If you give me the dimensions of your window, and a picture of your wife, I can give you an estimate," said Teryn.

"Excellent, it's about time something good came out of this junket," laughed the Count. "I made one obligatory donation, and they want me to sail half way around the world to act like a dignitary and keep up appearances. Don't get me wrong, I love this country, it's ruggedness and entrepreneurial spirit, but too much of my money is tied up right now keeping Frederick's barony propped up."

Frederick returned a weak smile at the Count's swipe, but his face soon scowled when Petyr wasn't looking.

" still I'm a busy man and I have to return back to Thyatis. Let's hammer out the basics of a contract shall we before I'm whisked off to see some other aspect of this gawd aweful cathedral I'm paying for."

Teryn approached the Count, but stopped when a red headed woman in a dark robe with a glowing staff blocked his path. Petyr waved her off, and the craftsman was able to step forward.

Frederick nodded with approval, as Petyr appeared engrossed with Teryn.

Teryn on the other hand felt the anticipation rising with in him. This Petyr guy seemed like a nice guy. Practical, worldly, and honest to a degree. It seemed a shame to kill the man, but that's what his best friend Flavius wanted. He couldn't deny his best friend's wishes.

Wait, was Flavius truly his friend? He only met him twice. Did that qualify as true friendship? Still, he was nice enough. He offered him opportunities, and a chance to join their ranks. But was that a reason to kill over? No, of course not. Teryn wasn't a killer, he couldn't do this act. He should just turn away and throw that shadow dagger or whatever it was into one of the trash cart . Or he could try warning him. Would that go against his friends wishes? It just didn't seem right.

But still….his best friend needed him. Could he just overlook his morals once….just to help a friend.

"Are you okay?" asked Petyr. Teryn snapped out of his self-induced trance and saw the ruddy face of the Count staring intently into his. "You don't look so well. You are sweating like a pig. Is anything the matter?"

"Everything is fine," said Teryn as he reached behind him and felt the hilt of the shadowy dagger.

"Frederick!" shouted a familiar voice from across the cathedral.

Frederick, Teryn and even Petyr stopped.

"Artyom?" asked Frederick in shock. "What in Vanya's name are you doing here?"

Artyom with Oksana in tow, marched towards them. Without a word, Count Petyr's bodyguards formed a barrier between the young noble and their charge, with the robed woman at the front.

"Kaden," said Oksana as she nodded to Frederick's biggest bodyguard.

"Oksana," returned Kaden with a wink.

"I'm , I'm sorry brother. I'm just here to retrieve Teryn before he does anything embarrassing," said Artyom with eyes swept downwards. "I've made a series of embarrassing mistakes. And I'm sorry to you as well Count Petyr. I..I don't want to get into the details but I'm sorry for my behaviour in the last few months. "

Count Petyr grunted, as he turned to face Artyom. His guards seemed exceptionally alert in the young noble's presence. Teryn saw his opportunity vanish as his chance to strike vanished. "I'm guessing it's about all those half veiled accusations you leveled on me about killing your father. Well, I don't like it, but I can understand your anger given your sire's recent death. Still, you are not a person I care to associate with."

"This is not a good time Artyom," said Frederick glancing at Teryn and then Petyr. "Why are you in Grom anyways? I thought you were in a drug den somewhere in Thyatis."

Artyom frowned. "I should be mad, but there's enough truth in your comment that I can't deny your point."

"Well, I don't have time for this family reunion," grunted Count Petyr as he waved for his tour of the cathedral to continue. The man then turned to Teryn. "I'll have an aide send you some specifics. If you want to do business with me, I expect an estimate before I leave the city."

Teryn's eyes grew wide as he watched his opportunity slip away. Should he make an attempt anyways? His friend would want that, but Flavius wasn't a man that valued efforts. The crippled senator valued results. He wouldn't be doing anyone in a favor if he attempted to killed Petyr and failed. He would have to wait for another chance.

As Petyr walked away, Frederick turned to Artyom." I need to talk to you in private, now," he said barely containing his anger. "You don't know what you've done."

"I know brother, we both need a serious talk," replied Artyom with a shrug, even as Frederick and his men closed in around them.


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm sorry brother," said Artyom for what seemed like the tenth time. "I've been on a very foolish and destructive path since father died."

Frederick grunted as the group made their way to a side door and then down a short flight of stairs. Artyom noted that Kaden had slipped back to the rear, most likely to chat with Oksana, while Teryn was literally jumping at the shadows around them.

Artyom shook his head at the craftsman. "I can't believe this. He is the height of my hubris."

Frederick stopped at that comment. "Eh? What do you mean by that?"

Artyom pointed at the cringing Teryn. "I didn't want to tell you this, but I hired this man on the pretense that he was something he was not."

Frederick chuckled and for a second Artyom saw his brother the way he was when they were growing up. Happy and carefree, unburdened by the death of their father, and the responsibilities that had shackled him since taking over the barony. "You are not the only one that overestimated his abilities. Though I am inclined to think that I misjudged this buffoon more than you."

Artyom snickered. "Oh I doubt that. "

Frederick looked around the empty basement, a dark place that resembled a tomb in Artyom's opinion. Besides themselves, only Oksana, Kaden, Teryn and four guards kept them company. "Do you care to make a wager brother? See who misjudged this man the most?"

Artyom saw Kaden shake his head vigorously telling Frederick 'No', while Oksana was glaring at him, conveying the same message.

"Hey I'm right here you know," sniffed Teryn as he was ignored.

"I have a bottle of 1100 Thyatian red against your fastest filly. The white one I like so much," said Artyom.

"Agreed, though it's more of the game that interests me, " nodded Frederick even as he made a little hand motion to the rest of his guard. Artyom saw the signal right away, and wondered what it was for. He looked at Oksana to see if she caught it as well, and saw her backing herself against the wall, giving him a troubled look.

Artyom ignored her and took a deep breath. "I hired Teryn thinking he was an assassin. I wanted to kill Count Petyr while he was visiting Grom."

"Eh? You thought I was an assassin? What gave you that idea?" said Teryn in shock.

Frederick stared at his brother and blinked blankly.

"I see from your expression, that filly is mine. A small compensation for the weight of the blunders I must carry."

Frederick began to loudly laugh. Artyom joined in briefly but his brother continued laughing till he was practically hacking from the effort. "Oh that is good Arty, but I have you beat. My master charmed Teryn here to kill Count Petyr. He would have done so if you hadn't stepped in. Meaning you stopped yourself."

Artyom mimicked Frederick's blink and began laughing as well, even as Frederick's guards pulled their blades on them.

"Eh? What's this?"

"I'm afraid it's no joke Arty," sighed Frederick "Teryn failed, and by default I failed as well. I belong to a group where lack of success is not tolerated. Someone will have to pay for this, and it won't be me I'm afraid. I've paid too much already. "

Artyom's mind tried to comprehend what his brother stated. Before he could weave his way through his convoluted remark the cathedral's basement exploded into violence.

One of Frederick's house guard lunged at Artyom with his short sword. Despite being surprised, Artyom's reflexes kicked in, and he somehow found himself with blade drawn, parrying the blow and returning a warning riposte. Artyom's strike missed, but it did buy him some time to sidestep another slash from one of the other guards. The nobleman twirled about to bring both of his attackers to bear, but was forced backwards as a third guard jumped into the fray.

Artyom knew he was badly outmatched. One guard he could handle, two he might have to fight defensively before making a break for the stairs, but three guards was pressing him to his limits. He was about to make a desperate strike at his newest attacker when both Oksana's and Kaden's barritus roared through the small hallway.

"RAAHHHH!"

The attacking guards gave pause at the dual shouts, even as the big warrior woman cut one down from behind. The guard gave Artyom a pained look as blood spurted from his lips before almost falling atop of him. Artyom pushed the corpse away even as one of the guards turned to face Oksana as the other pressed towards him.

With the breathing room, Artyom met the last head guard head on. He drew in close with his rapier, side stepping his slash, before smashing the man's face with his weapon's crossbar. The blow stunned the man, but gave Artyom enough time to pick his target and thrust past the man's armor.

Artyom was shocked at how easily he died, and was even more shocked at how little thought he gave it. He shook off that thought as he heard his bodyguard yelp in pain. He turned and saw Oksana standing over another guard's corpse while the remaining guard and Kaden had her flanked. The warrior woman was bleeding in the side, but looked more hurt from Kaden's betrayal than from her wound. Artyom also caught a glimpse of Teryn. Though the entrance to the stairs was blocked by Kaden, the craftsman was able to flee deeper into the basement.

As Artyom readied himself to charge to Oksana's aid, Frederick stepped in with his rapier drawn and raised, his offhand wrapped around a main gauche, a parrying dagger, and his feet slightly off from Artyom in a combat stance. Artyom fell into his own stance and readied to strike. The two brothers silently regarded each other, their good nature fun a few minutes ago had evaporated into a deadly dance.

While the short sword was considered the most common weapon of Thyatis' endless legions, the rapier was considered both a symbol and an art form by its nobility. Both Bancroft brothers were given countless years of training in their use, and both knew each others abilities intimately.

Artyom knew his brother had longer reach, but was a tad slower than himself. He attempted a foot lunge like he had done against the mage in the alley, but Frederick easily withdrew and taunted him with a foot click to show he saw through his clumsy attack. Frederick then attempted a powerful jab at Artyom's shoulder, but was blocked by a short circular parry followed by a fierce riposte to his center.

Artyom's blade struck true. The young nobleman was both excited and horrified at his success, and was both disappointed and relieved to see his brother was wearing a light leather breastplate under his shirt.

"A point for you," grinned Frederick as he shuffled back a step before launching himself forwards again. "Though you need to strike harder than that to beat my armor."

Artyom was pushed back by his younger and bigger brother's powerful strikes, barely able to deflect them as he was driven back. While they weren't on a training or dueling piste, the narrow corridor was effective in limiting their movements. Artyom attempted to counter attack with a lunge, but Frederick was able to side step the blow and score a bloody strike against his unarmored arm.

"A point for me," commented Frederick as he withdrew, saluted his brother, and pressed in again.

Artyom ignored the superficial wound. He cared not for his brother's scoring, but was more concerned about Oksana. He spotted her past Frederick, standing over the last guard, but she had suffered another serious strike from Kaden. The two lovers had always been evenly matched, but she was clearly at the disadvantage here as she bled profusely from her side.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Artyom as he lowered his guard to plead with his brother.

Frederick ignored the question as he seized the opportunity and thrust his blade at Artyom's lower leg. Artyom was not only waiting for this, but he was baiting for it. While his blade was out of position, Artyom dashed a half foot back, almost losing his balance as he dodged Frederick's blade. He then slashed wildly, extending his reach towards Frederick's head.

Artyom had his brother's neck, but hesitated in the last moment and instead left a crimson line across his cheek. Frederick winced in pain, as he retreated from the blow, his main gauche too slow to block Artyom's strike.

"Another point for you. You've gotten much better brother," scowled Frederick. "I guess you picked up a thing or two as you crept from thieves guild to smugglers den with that whore of yours."

Artyom shook his head. "That wasn't called for," he said before pressing forwards once again.

Instead of falling back like Artyom had hoped, Frederick met his blade head on. Artyom's rapier slid down his brother's sword, and caught on Frederick's guard, entwining the weapons briefly. Frederick's main gauche however stabbed clumsily towards the side at Artyom's exposed flank. Sensing the crude, but lethal strike, Artyom twisted his brother, catching him off guard with his strength. Before the parry dagger could land home, Artyom managed to slip forward, narrowly dodging it, and head butted his brother in the chin, sending him reeling backwards.

Artyom wasted no time, he batted his stunned brother's sword away and stabbed him straight through the chest. While his brother's armor deflected some of the blow, Artyom's blade was sharp and his aim was true. The rapier slid into his brother's chest as both brothers looked on horrified.

"A point…." Began Frederick before he fell to the ground.

Artyom glanced at Frederick's corpse. What had he done? Only a yelp from Oksana brought him to senses as he saw his companion struggling to stand. Both house guards were bleeding from a half dozen strikes, but somehow Kaden seemed immune to them.

Without a second thought for his brother, Artyom charged Kaden from behind. It wasn't an honorable attack, but that mattered little to the young noble as he left his brother's corpse behind. Caught between hammer and anvil, Kaden managed a half swivel before both parrying Artyom's blade with a vicious swing of his long sword, and kicking the reeling Oksana in the shoulder with his heavy boot.

Artyom fell back from the unexpected strength of his attack, struggling to keep a grip on his sword. Was the man a half ogre or something? He sparred often with Oksana, and was used to much stronger opponents, but this man's power was something else. He tried to counter attack, but Kaden had recovered from his swing first and swept again at Artyom.

Artyom's rapier met his opponent's larger sword. A high pitched chime sounded through the corridor as he watched in horror as his thin sword shattered from the blow. Time seemed to slow, as Kaden reversed his follow through, almost as a snake, and thrust his long blade towards Artyom's heart.

Before the blow struck however, Kaden grunted as he was yanked backwards. Artyom saw Oksana on the ground with her arm's around the bigger man's leg. Artyom didn't hesitate as he thrust the remains of his weapon into Frederick's neck, plunging the broken rapier straight through.

Instead of falling however, Kaden booted Oksana square in the face before turning towards a stunned Artyom and punching him square in the jaw with the pommel of his sword.

Artyom fell back in pain and surprise and looked at his bloodied opponent. Kaden had been injured in a half dozen spots from Oksana's blow, and had half a rapier sticking out of his neck. The man should have been dead, but instead he walked haltingly towards Artyom with his sword upraised.

Artyom retreated from the approaching warrior. He drew a hidden dagger from his back, but was unsure if it would make a difference against the seemingly unstoppable warrior. He was prepared to throw it when suddenly a sharp pain exploded from the back of his head.

"Last point is for me," said Frederick as Artyom fell to the ground, losing consciousness.


	15. Chapter 15

It was not easy for Teryn to run.

It wasn't because he was brave, for he wasn't. Even though, like most other abled bodied men, he served in the militia he was more of a morale booster than a front line soldier. He could handle a club well enough, but actively swinging weapons and in the presence of bloodshed was a no go for the craftsman.

It wasn't because he wanted to help Artyom and Oksana. He liked the pair, but this wasn't his fight. From what he heard, it was between Artyom and his brother Frederick, and between Oksana and her lover Kevin, or Kaden, or whatever his name was. He wasn't sure why they drew weapons on each other, and he had no inclination to find out.

Teryn did not want to run because he felt compelled to stay. Or at least that's what he thought. The same compulsion that made him attempt to slay Count Petyr also forced him to stay in the thick of battle. Teryn wasn't sure why, but he suspected it had to do something about fulfilling his promise to his good friend Flavius. He would have probably stayed at Frederick's side and might have even taken arms against his comrade when a thought came to him. If he would have died in the melee, he would have been no use to his good buddy Flavius. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed perfectly reasonable to preserve his own life in the anticipation of fulfilling his friend's goals at a later time.

It just seemed logical that he wouldn't serve his friend's purpose anymore if he was laid out bleeding from a sword wound somewhere I these cold catacombs, instead of meeting up with the Count again in the nice warm above ground and get him to lower his guard. In fact, he recalled the Count saying to contact him later, which seemed like a perfectly legitimate reason to flee the battle.

So in a roundabout way, he was doing what was expected of him when he ran screaming with his arms in the air, deeper into the catacombs.

As Teryn ran through the darkness, the first thing that came to his mind was that he should have ran up the stairs. Even though there was a bunch of armed men swinging their weapons wildly in a gauntlet of hacking and slashing, it might have been worth the risk considering the alternative, running into a maze of skulls, and bones.

Having followed Flavius into the depths of the catacombs before, Teryn had some idea of how big and labyrinth like they were. Whoever built this certainly didn't do it up to any modern construction codes. Most of the corridors and rooms were not at right angles to each other. There was no standardization to the height or width of the passages and ceilings, and even construction materials seemed haphazard at best. Some of the floors had some nice expensive dwarven tiles, while others seemed constructed out of two copper reed bricks, the cheapest of the cheap when it comes to building supplies.

And let's not forget the skulls and bones. While morbid, Teryn thought the bigger skulls should be placed the near the bottom of the construction, or at least the person organizing it should group them up by size. Right now a big skull could be placed next to a little skull, leaving the wall looking obtuse and uneven.

Though he had ventured into the depths once before, given the surrounding darkness, randomness of the rooms appearance, and the way they twisted around Teryn soon found himself lost. Teryn panicked briefly, but somehow found the will to take a few deep breaths and attempted to sort things out.

"Get a hold of yourself man,"said Teryn to himself. "You can do this. Flavius is counting on you."

First off, Teryn intoned what magic he had. While not a great and powerful mage, and lacking anything resembling offensive spells, Teryn could at least create light. Though his spell only created a torch like brightness, it didn't tax the craftsman mana, or internal reserves, or whatever else powered his magic. Multiple castings of it, soon filled the short dusty corridor with enough light to give him an artificial sense of safety.

Secondly Teryn began to trace his steps back. His visibility was limited when he ran, but he recalled he ran mostly straight. It didn't take long before Teryn began making his way back to the stair case, hoping that the battle was over. A few times Teryn was turned around, but while the construction of the place was baffling, he did recognize some landmarks. A horned skull here, a jutting bone there, even strange pedestals with dark books on them gave Teryn a few points to focus on and rewind his path.

Lastly, in most circumstances an unclean work environment was abhorrent to Teryn. Before and after every shift at Yarl's shop in Heldann, Teryn would make Rawley and Tofil sweep the place up and place everything back in order. It wasn't just a matter of safety, but it gave the craftsman a point of focus, a feeling everything was where it was supposed to be. Here in the catacombs however, everything was a mess. Loose bricks stayed loose, scattered straw remained scattered, but more importantly dust remained on the ground.

After meandering through the corridors for awhile following some of the landmarks he recalled, Teryn found that he could also retrace his steps through the footprints left in the dust. While it wasn't a perfect system, since other people had made their way through these corridors before, at least Teryn could rule out the places with no foot prints left in them. Teryn thought that unless he was turned around, he could just find the path with the most traffic, and head towards that to find the exit. Most likely since he started at a point deep in the catacombs, he would only need to head away from his starting position to head out.

It wasn't a great plan, but it made sense enough to Teryn to follow it. After all his best friend was counting on him to get out.

Teryn paused at the thought again. Was he sure that Flavius was his best friend? He only just met the man, and all he ever did was offer him a chance to join their secret club in exchange for killing a man. That seemed a bit manipulative and one sided to Teryn. Count Petyr seemed like a practical, reasonable person, and likeable man, but even if he was a career criminal Teryn wasn't sure if killing him like an assassin was the right thing to do. Would his best friend actually make him do that?

While Teryn had many acquaintances, he had few friends. Even Yarl, Rawley and Tofil were considered coworkers that he spending time with, rather than friends. Artyom was an employer at best, a pleasant one with a few noble quirks, but a likeable person. Teryn liked Oksana though, she didn't say much to him, but she had a blue collar attitude that appealed to him and she wasn't that bad to look at. Sure she had the strong jaw line and the broad shoulders that could hip toss an ox, but there was something natural, fresh, and well-proportioned about her that appealed to his aesthetic senses. He wasn't sure if he could consider her a true friend, though he definitely wanted her to be.

Of everyone he knew, the closest thing Teryn could think of as a friend was Nocker. He was loyal, friendly, protective, and always comforted Teryn when he needed it. He wasn't even a person. Or at least not a normal person. While it couldn't speak, Nocker was very smart, smarter than most humans. He wasn't just heaping praise on it either, the small dragon wasn't just a super smart dog, like a borderlands collie, or a Thyatian Shepard, but a thinking and reasoning sentiment being. Teryn was pretty sure he caught him reading a few times, but wasn't sure if Nocker actually comprehended the words or merely mimicking the actions of others.

Given his reflection on his lack of humanoid friends. Teryn wondered how Flavius could fall into that category so easily. It definitely wasn't his appearance. While Teryn didn't place high stock on a person's looks, the old senator could definitely benefit from a lengthy robe and a full mask. Something simple like a harlequin's mask or even a bag over his head would do. Given his background Teryn though it might have to do with magic, but that was absurd. Why would Flavius use something like magic to….

Teryn stopped as all the tumblers in his brain clicked together. He was charmed. That old bastard stopped him. While not trained in the defense of the dark arts, Teryn knew that once a magic is exposed its easy to pick apart. Like an illusion that seemed real until one notices a detail that is off, or a protective circle where one point is broken or crossed over. A charm spell only remains a charmed spell, when the victim doesn't know he's charm. A master enchanter would often place many safeguards and distractions to prevent his target from realizing what was happening to him, or confuse him to not understand his situation, but as soon as that is broken the target's mind snaps back into place.

Teryn shook off Flavius' enchantment. He saw the Senator kill a woman. He was almost forced to kill a man. He was used like a puppet. He endangered Artyom and Oksana. He felt dirty and violated.

Given his realization of what had just happened Teryn redoubled his efforts to find his way out. He would rescue his employers and bring justice to this foul church, although indirectly. Teryn's plan was that he would contact Captain Fetch and tell him what happened. The man was a nice enough fellow, even with his fancy big house. He seemed a bit scatterbrained at times, but he was still a Captain of the Guard.

As Teryn proceeded to follow the tracks and bring about his righteous vengeance. His feeling of bravery and justice and vanished into horror when he noticed something peculiar about the tracks. While most of them appeared to wear sandals or boots, and some were oddly barefoot, Teryn saw that some weren't even human. At first he thought it was someone's pet dog or perhaps a stray cat, but no these appeared humanoid but also had claws.

As if to reinforce the dread, a long baying howl echoed through the catacomb's corridors. Teryn didn't need to think twice as he threw his arms into the air and ran shrieking deeper into the catacombs once again.


	16. Chapter 16

Artyom dreamt of kinder days.

Running around the forests of Bancroft with Frederick, learning how to ride with Kaden, and fencing practices with Oksana. Life was so much easier back then. All his problems were dealt with by father or his servants, and the locals would cheer his passing. Even his step mother treated him lovingly, though he was the older brother. Some of the servants whispered that Artyom would fall out of favor when his step mother arrived, just like in the fairy tales, but that was far from the truth. She loved him like her own son, and Artyom loved her back in return.

As Artyom recalled his past, the present dragged him back painfully as a sharp object jabbed him in the shoulder. The young noble gasped and attempted to scream, but could only emit a dry gargle.

"Up, up," now said the deep voice of Kaden in the darkness. "This is easier done when you are awake."

Though it was dark, Artyom could see the outline of Frederick's big body guard in front of him. There was a faintly lit candle nearby, and Artyom saw he was in some type of old cell. The walls looked like they were made of clay, and both Oksana and himself had their arms stretched up, hanging from hooks from the ceiling, like animals readied to be butchered.

"Not butchered really," said Kaden as he poked him again with a dagger. "We don't eat your kind, or at least not in a physical sense."

Artyom wasn't sure what the man was saying, but he recoiled as he saw the gaping neck wound, and the dozens of open cuts on his body.

"Why..why aren't you dead?" gasped Artyom.

"Yes, she cut me up quite bad it seems," sighed Kaden. "I'm not sure how much longer this host will hold together. Pity, I rather enjoy its comforts."

Artyom stopped and stared at Kaden. "Did..did you just read my mind…." He gasped.

Kaden nodded."Yes I did. That's why I always thought you the smarter brother. That's why I let my comrade take Frederick as I held out for you."

Kaden's mind reeled. Take his brother? Held out?

"Ah, so many questions. All of them will be answered soon, but let's speed things up shall we," said Kaden as he walked outside the cell, and returned with a rickety chair. The big man then sat down and stared at Artyom.

"Your brother despite his bluster broke easily when we caught him, but you on the other hand are a different story," said Kaden. "As Flavius would say, I need to break down your spirit a bit."

"What are you saying?" asked Artyom thoroughly lost. Flavius? He recalled a senator of that name, something about dark perversions and then being cut up in by his whores. Was that the fate in store for him?

"Ah, that's better. Confusion and fear speeds things up. Also despair, which is why I'll tell you the truth."

Artyom could not comprehend what Kaden was saying, but it was buying him time. He was weakened from his beating, his arms were bound over his head, and he hung like a piece of meat, but maybe an opportunity would arise if Kaden kept on talking. He felt another of his hidden daggers still remained in his belt, but just needed a chance to get to it.

"The knife won't do you any good, you'll never reach it, but keep focused on that, it'll be easier to break you when you realize it for yourself," chuckled Kaden.

"What are you?"

Kaden rolled his eyes. "I've been trying to get to that but you keep interrupting. Anyways, one of the things about my people, is that we aren't from around here. In fact, we are probably the most distant travelers you've ever met. I'm not talking Alphatia, or Leeha, or even Vinraj. I'm talking about a world that is …how shall we say from a far realm."

"Our leader, the one that inhabits senator Flavius, yes that Flavius, was the first to arrive here. Though the entire place is a bit repulsive, the sensations of the place, the emotions of its inhabitants, was quite alluring and seductive. You people take too much for granted. The taste of wine, the touch of a loved one, the warmth of a fire. All these things are sensations my people do not experience, and drew us in like the proverbial moth to a flame. I believed my mentor possessed an orc at first, then a soldier, and when he realized how social structures worked in this world he grabbed good ole Senator Flavius. "

"As a senior senator in one of this mud world's most powerful nations, he was given free reign to do pretty much anything he wanted. While this world is well versed in this energy called magic, it was not familiar with our so called mental powers and his possession went on undetected."

"The Senator saw an opportunity and began recruiting others, like myself and my companion from the far realm, and set about procuring forms for us to 'inhabit'. We formed a secret organization to recruit disfranchised noblemen for us to inhabit, and when the pickings were slim we went on a more direct approach of kidnapping and murder, as you found out first hand last year. "

"You..you killed my father?" gasped Artyom. It didn't matter if this creature was Kaden or not, the betrayal twisted in his gut at the admission.

Kaden shrugged. "Actually he killed himself during our raid, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is my story we are talking about. We tricked your brother into one of our meetings, and it didn't take much for him to surrender to us. My companion took him for his own. I was told to wait to take your body, but I was impatient so I grabbed his bodyguard instead. While it lacked the wealth and social status that you people find so important, it has other more physical characteristics that I find very stimulating," he said as he walked over to Oksana and gently raised her unconscious chin. "She's beautiful isn't she, like a war horse."

"Stay away from her," warned Artyom ineffectually.

Kaden laughed. "Don't worry. I would never hurt her, well not beyond the sword fight we just had. It's hard to explain, but I'll try for you. When I inhabit a body, I just don't use it like a puppet. I merge its thoughts with my own. Most of the time, my mind is strong enough to completely subjugate and wipe clean any thoughts of my host, their thoughts are muted and become like dreams or echoes. Sometimes however, we find an unexpectedly powerful mind, and its consciousness become a part of my own. That's a good thing really, it helps one grow, but it does make one act erratic for awhile. It's impossible to fully explain to a three dimensional creature like yourself, but let's just say roughly ten percent of my thoughts and personality are no longer my own. And the Kaden portion of my personality would never let me harm her, at least not in a permanent way."

"Who the hell are you?" gasped Artyom. "What the hell are you?"

Kaden shook his head. "Haven't you been listening to what I said? I won't explain it all again, but let's say I'm part the creature you call Kaden. And because of that, I did things I would not have done previously. Like for example warn Oksana right before the attack on your manor."

"You..you're with the Golden mages?"

"Well yes, and no. While we are powerful, we are few in numbers. So we surrounded ourselves with ..for lack of a better term…a cult. A group of people that were easily impressed with our power, and wanted a taste of what we can give them. The golden mages were mostly followers we recruited from the mentally impressionable we found from the arcane classes, unhinged individuals that had hit a plateau in their studies and needed something else to drive them. I would prefer them not to dress so obviously, but you can't really reason with insane people. Eventually it became a kind of calling card for our whole cult, and I even found myself wearing a golden robe once in a while to fit in with our followers. A couple even wore robes when they attacked your manor, but that proved to be a mistake."

"As you know you escaped, your father killed himself before he could become a host, but more importantly rumors of golden mages began swirling around. We had some agents place in Count Petyr's retinue, but they were swiftly kicked out as they came under more scrutiny. In fact, a lot of us had to vacate the country or at least keep our operation low key until we re-established ourselves. Even Senator Flavius was...ahem...removed from office. He had a really smooth operation in the capital, but the sensations of these bodies are a little too hard to resist. A small boy here, a dead prostitute there, and one too many blood orgies, it was hard for him to resist his base urges. As the senator got a little too extravagant in his pleasures, he was eventually found out and put down. Still, my mentor's powers are greater than mine, and despite his injuries he reformed himself. His body was sliced in a horrific fashion, but as you can see, we are a tad durable in these forms. I guess we could have simply changed hosts at that point, but the original senator had a very powerful source of magical reserves within him. Also a person gets kind of attached to their skin. "

"Many of us relocated to this northern wasteland and attempted to start anew, but we are a far thinking people. We had enough ties in Thyatis to recognize that we could start over there again if we had the right foot in the door. So we invited the beloved Count Petyr to oversee this church's restoration, and was hoping to kill or capture him to possess his body. Sadly, the Count is a cautious man and he brought a powerful contingent of guardians to keep us at bay. We tried to get that buffoon Teryn to get him to lower his guard, but unfortunately you stepped in."

Artyom's mind reeled from what he was told. Nothing made sense, it was all to fantastic. Was anything Kaden said was real?

"Oh its real all right. As I was saying, I was originally given rights to your body, but I choose to stay in Kaden's here instead. Now that this body is nearing its limits, I think I'll stake my claim now. I know, I know, I could just reknit myself like Flavius did, but there's something dirty in that. I would prefer a fresh body, a younger fitter one, when I ravish my beloved Oksana here. As you recall, I am part of Kaden, but he's still a small part of me. He really wants that woman you know. I should be mad at his disruptions but they are quite pleasurable, really intense and strong."

Artyom shook his head. He didn't believe what he was hearing but it was shocking nonetheless. "No…I won't let you do this."

Kaden laughed. "Yes, perfect. I know telling my tale would send your mind in a scramble. The confusion and despair is setting in. Soon, I'll break your mind like my companion broke your brother's. I'll take over your body and mind, and I'll be able to enjoy the pleasures of Oksana's body as well. She'll have to be broken in, perhaps drugs or some of Flavius' magic, but she'll fit in nicely as my bodyguard, heh. Sure you will resist, but you don't seem to have the mental fortitude as Kaden here, so your empty thoughts would be like echoes in my vast consciousness. Merely a reference I can call up whenever the need arises. "

Artyom tried to raise himself up and kick the bigger man, but he was too weak from his ordeal. Even if he was at full strength, he doubt he could face the bigger, and more combat experienced Kaden. The young nobleman simply gritted his teeth, prayed to his ancestors to maintain some semblance of bravery as he awaited his fate.

Kaden approached Artyom and smiled. With his multiple wounds, he looked more like an undead creature than the ghouls he faced earlier that week. Kaden prepared for the worse as the big man's mouth drew close to his, as if ready to lock together in a kiss, but suddenly the man stopped and shuddered.

"No,not now," gasped Kaden. The big man rocked and shivered before he reached up and lifted Artyom from the hook holding his binds. Artyom fell but staggered to maintain his balance even as Kaden fell to the ground and looked at him with a face of despair and horror. "I..I can't keep the voice at bay. Kill me Artyom," begged the big man as his face contorted and shifted.

With his arms still bound, Artyom reached into his belt and fumbled for his hidden dagger. It was a small blade, but sharp enough as he plunged it into Kaden's face. It was a wild strike and only stabbed though his cheek, a painful injury in most circumstances, but it did little to stop the big body guard. Kaden attempted to rise, as his arms made a motion to grab Artyom, but something stopped him again as began to shake and shudder uncontrollably.

"Kill me," sputtered Kaden again even as he glanced a final time at the unconscious form of Oksana.

Artyom took a deep breath, and did not hesitate or falter this time. He plunged his blade into Kaden's neck, forcefully and multiple times, until the big man finally collapsed into a bloody heap.

Artyom took a step back, unsure of what happened. Had Kaden gone mad? Was there any shred of truth to what he had said? Did he just witness the death wish of a maniac?

Before Artyom could ponder those questions, the mass of butchered flesh that was once called Kaden began to shift. Artyom froze, as he saw what remained of Kaden's head quiver and then split open. From the horror unfolding before him, what looked like a four legged ambulatory brain crawled out of his skull.

Artyom wanted to scream, as the cat sized creature reared up ready to pounce on him.

Artyom wasn't sure what happened next. Perhaps it was his knife, his larger size, or simply the creature was vulnerable without it's host. Instead of leaping towards Artyom's face, the creature turned and fled out of the cell into the darkness.

Artyom held his breath for what seemed like a minute in case the monster returned. Finally he let out a deep breath of exhaustion and began cutting his own bonds before turning towards Oksana. While they took his magical bag, he did manage to salvage some weapon and armor from Kaden's corpse. He even found some potions which he risked first on himself, before letting Oksana sip some.

"Wha..what happened? I think Kaden was charmed. There's no way he could harm me under his free will, it must have been magic, " said Oksana as she came to. "Wait…is that him ?"

Though the body was mutilated and the head gone, the size of the body was a giveaway to its identity.

Artyom wasn't sure what to tell her. Should he tell her the truth. Oh your boyfriend was snatched by some brain critters in a plot to take over the Thyatian nobility. That sounded really stupid even for himself.

"He died a free man," was the only answer Artyom could think of.

"I..I don't understand," said Oksana, tears in her eyes as she struggled to get up. She reached towards the body, but Artyom gently steered her away and out of the cell.

Artyom shook his head as he held her tight. "I don't understand either."


	17. Chapter 17

Teryn tripped, stumbled, and twisted mid-air before falling painfully hard on his side. The craftsman muddled around in the dark until he found a stick like object and casted light on it. He could have set his finger as the target for the spell, but Teryn wanted to be able to discard his light source in case he was pursued.

As the spell took hold, Teryn cringed. It was horrifying enough that he was in a crypt, but he was filled with terror when he found himself surrounded by bodies. Not skeletons or people laid to rest, but a pile of half chewed corpses. Teryn was horrified and felt the urged to scream when he saw that not only were some of these bodies recent, but they were dressed like craftsman as well.

Teryn turned his head from the grizzly sight and hurried out of the room, less he recognized one of the bodies. He wasn't a well-known member of the craftsman community, but he was one of them, and given the events he recently experienced, he could have easily been among those corpses.

As Teryn walked away from the macabre scene, he rushed through a long skull lined corridor. It opened up into a rubble strewn room, with what appeared to be another well in middle of it. This well wasn't like the one he passed when Flavius lead him into the strange chamber, it wasn't lined with skulls on the bottom. Teryn waved his makeshift torch over it and could not see the bottom. It was at this point he realized that the stick he was holding onto wasn't a stick at all, but some long half chewed bone.

With a yelp of surprise, Teryn dropped the bone into the well. He watched it for a second hoping it would hit bottom, but the illuminated object continue to fall, and fall, until it was out of sight.

"Get a hold of yourself," admonished Teryn to himself as he restrained himself from fleeing wildly once more. He considered drawing his black dagger, but something was wrong with it, something wasn't right about it, and he cautiously left it in its hilt behind his back. The craftsman calmly picked up a stone and re-casted his light spell on it. " You're in a bad place, but running around madly won't get you out of here. Just think of it as a difficult project. Like the one you and Yarl did in Ostland the other year."

Teryn nodded at his own statement even though he didn't believe it. Working around hulking Vikings was one thing, but being surrounded by undead, cultists, and some crazy guy that looked like he was stitched up in a hundred places was quite another. Being caught between Artyom and his brother in their crazy family feud didn't help either. Throw in the bitter love birds and Teryn found himself a giant pile of dragon doo. Also he was pretty sure Yarl never found himself in a situation like this, his non-descript looking master would probably be screaming louder and running faster than himself. The thought of his master in his situation and watching him panic in his place, settled Teryn's nerves slightly.

Even as some of Teryn's courage returned, it quickly evaporated as he heard a shuffling noise down the hall from where he had fled. Teryn instinctively balled his fist to hide the light, fearful of whatever menace that was creeping around could see him. He glanced around in his own room, and saw there was no exits, or at least visible ones. He recalled that when he followed Flavius down the depths of this place, there were secret doors and passages all over it. The problem was not that he couldn't attempt to look for one, but how could he do so without alerting whatever was nearby.

Teryn stood in the darkness, frozen once again by his indecision, but nothing came for him. All he could hear was what sounded like a dog chewing on bones, and the thought of it terrified him. His mind conjured all sorts of horrific and monstrous creatures, making the big goblins he met earlier almost cuddly in comparison.

Teryn wasn't sure how long he waited there, but finally the noise stopped. Did the creature leave or was it simply waiting in ambush for him? Teryn waited a few more minutes, hoping to hear some indication of what it was doing but he heard nothing but silence.

The craftsman was now faced with two options. Wait here in this dead end and hope the creature didn't find him eventually, or back track into the room and hope the creature was gone and he could eventually find his way out, Both options looked bad to Teryn, but one was a guaranteed slow death while the other was just a high probability of one. Given those two grim choices the craftsman slowly crept forward with his balled up light stone in hand.

Teryn advanced back into the chamber with the corpses, and he was relieved to find there was no monster there ready to attack him. Instead however, he found a fresh body with one of its limbs gnawed off. He released his grip on his light stone slightly, chasing away some of the darkness with the faint light. Teryn gulped hard when he recognized it. It was Peter the woodworker. Teryn didn't know the man but he seemed like a good guy, he did vet his credentials to the guards, though in the long run that proved more detrimental to his professional career than if he would have simply laughed him off the job site.

As Teryn looked at his former coworker, he noticed something peculiar with the corpses. While most exhibited various degress of being chewed on, some of them appeared to had their skulls bursted. Not just their heads caved in, but it looked like something exploded out of their heads. Teryn wasn't sure what could have done such a thing, but imagined some sort of suction device or perhaps an expanding mechanism placed through one's ear. It was a morbid thought, but it did keep him distracted enough as to not cause a panic.

With the creature gone, Teryn took a deep breath and began the long task of finding his way out. Even though everything looked different, everything also looked the same. He couldn't tell one bone filled corridor from another. He wondered if he should leave marks on the walls to narrow down his choices, but he realized if he could see the marks, the cultists and the monsters could probably see them as well, so he ruled out that option.

He would have to rely on his memory. While he considered himself more of an artist than an engineer, Teryn knew he could, no he would have to figure out this maze. He laughed at himself when he recalled solving mazes on paper in his youth, and how very different they were when one was placed inside one. The solid black inked walls had nothing on the skull lined corridors he found himself in.

Teryn walked roughly fifty feet down the first corridor, before he stopped. He could hear the shambling again.

"Crap," hissed the craftsman as he gripped his stone tightly again and was forced to retreat back to the corpse filled room. As he fell back, Teryn's blood froze as he caught sight of the creature approaching.

It was humanoid in shape, but resembled more of a skeleton than a man. It had a skull for head and hollow eyes. Most of its bones lacked any flesh, but it had strange pulsating organs in its stomach and ribcage which reached all the way through its throat ending in a long pulsating tongue. It was hunched over dragging another corpse, and moved with long halting strides.

The creature looked directly at Teryn, but didn't react as it continued to shuffle slowly and steadily towards him with his newest prize.

Teryn looked at it and suppressed the urge to scream. As he watched it approach steadily, he realized it couldn't see him, or at least couldn't detect him immediately. It was probably because it was missing its eyeballs, but Teryn remained cautious. Most creatures that couldn't see had other heightened senses to compensate,like improved smelling, hearing, and even taste. Teryn recalled a druid boasting of how snakes could taste their way through tunnels, and he wondered if this creature operated in a similar fashion.

As the creature approached it suddenly stopped, and began to sniff the air as its tongue elongated out and began waving a few feet around it. It didn't seem to notice Teryn, but the craftsman knew it was a matter of time. This was a one way passage, and even if he retreated out of its notice, he would soon find himself back in the corpse room, or maybe back in the well room.

At that point Teryn had a thought. It wasn't a good idea by any stretch of the imagination but it was better than no idea.

Teryn slowly retreated, slightly faster than the approaching creature. About half way to the corpse chamber his luck ran out, and he heard a hissing and screech behind him. Teryn was gripped with fear, but also with purpose as he threw his light stone forward and dashed away from the ravenous creature.

Though the extent of his magic was limited, he did have a few tricks. Besides casting light, he could also project a floating disk. It wasn't a particularly spectacular spell, but it was useful. It could carry a great deal of weight, and made heavy labor much easier. With his limited repertoire of spells, Teryn aimed it beneath the mutilated corpse of Peter as he intoned it. The floating disk did its task and rose under the half eaten body and followed Teryn as he ran into the well room.

The strange tongue skeleton loped towards Teryn and rapidly began to close the distance. Teryn glanced back and saw even though it moved in a strange limping gait, it covered a lot of ground in its long strides. The creature was almost on him, but it must have slipped on a bone or skull or something, causing it to lose its balance temporarily, giving Teryn another short head start.

With disk in tow, and monster behind him Teryn kept on running and soon found himself in the darkness of the well room. He cast another light spell on the ground, since he was long out of the range of the stone he threw earlier. Without missing a step, Teryn dived towards the well, barely sailing over it, as he crashed behind it.

Teryn wasn't sure what would happen next. The long tongued skeleton, pursued Teryn and pounced after him. However, instead of landing on the craftsman and tearing him apart with its claws and oddly deadly looking tongue, the monster leaped upon the corpse Peter being held on the disk.

Teryn didn't even have to cancel his spell, as the weight of the creature was too much for his magic. The skeleton as well as Peter's corpse both fell through the disk and plummeted down the well. Teryn's hunch had paid off, it might have detected him, but one moving object was as good as another for it.

Teryn sighed, but his relief was short lived as he heard a gargling noise from the well. Teryn poked up and saw that the creature's tongue had impossibly grabbed a chunk of the mortar and was now supporting its weight. The craftsman could see the tongue slowly retract, inching its way to the top of the well, ready to claw its way up through more conventional means.

Teryn wasted no time, and hefted the biggest piece of rubble he could find, a big brick with a crack in it. He ran up to the tongue and smashed it with all his might. The creature maintained its grip as it gargle an angry screech at Teryn. Instead of running however, Teryn smashed the brick again on the tongue, finally loosening its grip. The creature's tongue snapped back into its head as it fell, but once again it showed its remarkable tenacity. It's claws and arms outstretched and dug into the sides of the well. Though it appeared troubled in keeping its balance it was firmly entrenched roughly twenty feet below Teryn I the well.

"Just die already," said Teryn as he raised the brick over his head and threw it at the creature. The brick connected squarely onto the creature's head, snapping it back as it lost its grip. The creature screech as it fell, but even those faded out of earshot as it vanished down the well.

With the creature vanquished, Teryn breathed a sigh of relief. "That went better than expected," he said as he began to once again work his way out of the catacombs.


	18. Chapter 18

"Ohmga, Ohmga, Ohmga."

The chanting echoed menacingly around Artyom. It almost seemed like it was emanating from the walls. The young nobleman wasn't sure if he should advance or retreat. He wasn't even sure where he was. All he knew was that he was defeated by his brother Frederick, woke up suspended in some dungeon about to be tortured by his house guard Kaden, before the man gave a crazy confession and had some bizarre brain creature pop out of his head. The more Artyom thought of the recent events, the more he entertained the theory that he was caught in a nightmare. Surely this couldn't be happening? Not to him?

"We should go forward," suggested Oksana making the decision for him. "Be ready for a fight."

Artyom had no counter and simply nodded towards her. He wondered how she was taking Kaden's death, but felt too awkward to ask.

His father had always forbidden fraternization between the help, but that didn't stop Kaden and Oksana. Though the two were veterans of the frontier wars, they had never met until they entered service to House Bancroft. At first it was more of a competition to see which one was the better fighter and guard, and then it developed into something deeper. It was a poor secret that the two were an item, and even poorer when Kaden gave Oksana that enchanted blade. Artyom thought it amusing that instead of proposing to her with a ring, the big warrior chose to show his love to her with a blade. It seemed tacky to him, but not to Oksana.

For a magical blade it was passable, but Artyom knew it must have cost Kaden a year's worth of salary. It didn't matter though, Oksana loved it and carried it everywhere. At least until their recent defeat.

Artyom thought she would break down or go into a rage at the death of Kaden, but she kept on plodding forward stoically like nothing had happened. Even after he explained to the best of his ability what had happened, she did not show any outward emotion of their situation. Not that it fooled Artyom, he could see she was a mess inside. He knew her well enough to recognize the quiver in her step, the pause in her speech, and even the way her eyes were downcast, to know that she wasn't taking this well. But he couldn't concern himself with that now. Right now, they had to get out of here. Warn Captain Fetch and or Count Petyr, and hoped someone could burn out the monsters festering in this cathedral.

"Ohmga, Ohmga, Ohmga."

"I wish the Blindman was real," declared Artyom as the chanting grew louder. "If any place needed to be cleansed by the blind blade of justice it would be this hell hole."

"The Blindman is real," corrected Oksana. "We just hired the wrong man."

"Maybe I was wrong to look for a savior, maybe I should have sought justice out myself."

"From what you told me, that would have meant you would have killed Count Petyr in your apparently misguided rage."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Maybe I should leave this to the courts and the inquisitors."

Oksana shook her head. "No, I won't fault you for your desire for justice, however misplaced it may be. After losing Kaden, I too feel the need for retribution, but who do I extract my vengeance on? Your brother, Senator Flavius, the Yellow Lord cultists? Maybe that creature you described that crawled out of his head? I don't know. "

Artyom twirled his dagger in the palm of his hand. It was a pretty useless maneuver to use in a fight, but it did impress the ladies and typically got a few laughs at the bar. "How about we kill them one a time, just to be sure justice is meted out."

Oksana chuckled lightly. "Maybe you should be the Blindman. You might lack the skill, but you certainly have the brooding and the dark presence down."

Artyom smiled. Not at his joke, but at Oksana's reaction. She was hiding her pain, but even in these grim surroundings she could at least smile.

"Ohmga, Ohmga, Ohmga."

Just as Artyom was about to make another jest, a bright light blazed across the corridor before them. Though the volume of the chanting gave no indication that someone was coming, they found themselves before a procession of a half dozen golden robed men.

Artyom and Oksana stopped, even as the cultists did the same. Both groups were unsure what to do, until one of the skinnier cultists raised a slender hand at them. "Kill them," she shouted.

Before anyone could react, Oksana pounced upon the robed figures. Instead of shouting her barritus, the warrior woman just began hacking and chopping through the golden robed cultists with a raw fury Artyom had never seen before.

The woman which wanted them dead was the first to be cut down. Oksana folded her in half with a two handed swing to the midsection. Artyom was glad she was wearing robes, sparing him from the grizzly sight of her most likely bisected torso.

The man to the right of the slain woman was then knocked to the side by a powerful shoulder block from Oksana, which put her in position to cut down the man on the slain woman's right with a less powerful, but equally effective slash against his back.

The man on the left screamed as he staggered away, clutching his back in pain, but Artyom put him down with a quick toss of his dagger to the throat.

The man on the right fell back, as two of the remaining cultists drew long daggers and intercepted Oksana. The warrior woman had reach on the both of them, but they seemed content to fight defensively, dancing away from her blows when she lunged, and flanking her to prevent her from overextending herself. As the three of them engaged in the duel, the last cultist began chanting something and dark motes began appearing out of his hands.

Artyom knew he had to stop the spell, but he didn't have a clear shot with the other dagger. Instead of throwing his weapon through Oksana and her dance partners, Artyom tried to sprint past them on the left, hoping to reach the mage before he unleashed his magic.

As Artyom dashed past Oksana, the dagger wielding man closest to him, stepped in to close the gap in the corridor. The long dagger slashed down at Artyom, but instead of slicing down at him, it flew up unexpectedly as Oksana raced towards him and her sword chopped his hand off in a clean motion. Before the other dagger wielder could take advantage of Oksana's extended positioning, the warrior woman wrapped her blade around her back, and amazingly parried her blow, before spinning to face the surprised cultist.

Artyom's jaw dropped at the maneuver and was about to compliment her when the mage's motes reached a critical mass of darkness. Artyom didn't hesitate and threw his blade at his foe. He didn't aim for anything specific as the weapon tumbled end over end until it exploded in a shower of blue sparks in front of the mage.

At first Artyom thought the mage had a spell against his weapon, but as the sparks cleared his weapon was embedded up to its hilt through the mage's chest. The cultist's hand flailed helplessly at the weapon, even as the motes vanished. Artyom was about to race to recover his blade, when he was buffeted to the side by his flailing foe.

The nobleman twisted and saw it was the one handed man. He was frantically trying to batter Artyom with his bloody stump as well as his remaining good hand, but was rapid loosing his strength. The nobleman simply butted his forehead to the man's nose, a trick he learned in a seedy bar in Specularum, before hip tossing the stunned man hard to the ground.

Artyom raced to the fallen mage, and noted that the dagger was icy cold to the touch. Did Kaden have a magical dagger? He shook off the question as he yanked it out of the corpse and turned to help Oksana, but it appeared she didn't need any. Instead of finding her engaged with the last two dagger wielders in a deadly duel, the big warrior woman was standing over their corpses wiping the blood off her blade.

"Artyom come here," she commanded, with blade in hand in a combat stance.

Artyom wasn't sure why, but he did as told.

"Watch for any runners," she said as she stabbed her blade viciously through one of her fallen foe's skull.

Artyom winced. He had heard some people coped with loss by falling in depravity. Had Oksana done the same? She was never the nicest of persons, but she had never mutilated a fallen foe like this.

"Next," she said as she dispatched the one handed man in similar fashion.

Artyom wanted to say something but he held his tongue. What could he say? These people, or creatures, killed Kaden and most likely possessed or killed his brother. Didn't they deserve this?

Oksana crushed the skulls of the mage and the two other guards before standing atop the woman cultist she killed first. With blood and brains splattered about her, she nodded to the uneasy Artyom before plunging her blade once more into the fallen woman's skull. Instead of the sword slicing cleanly through, Artyom's heart skipped a beat as the woman's head hopped forward dodging the weapon. Oksana seemed prepared for this and kicked the fleeing head with her boot, sending it spiraling into a wall.

Artyom wasn't sure what happened next, but he instinctively threw his first dagger at the head, missing it cleanly by a foot, before tossing his icy one. The weapon's aim was also off, but somehow at the last second it looked like the weapon diverted its path and pinned one of the head's tiny clawed feet to the wall.

Artyom watched with revulsion and fascination as the head twisted and flopped in an attempt to free itself. The show didn't last long though, as Oksana stepped up and delivered a powerful two handed smash into the squirming head.

"You were right," smiled Oksana as she wiped more gore off of her face. "Some of these cultists do have brain creatures inside them."

The big warrior woman then turned to Artyom and gave him a big hug, as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Err, is everything alright?"

Oksana took a deep breath and nodded. "I …I was devastated when Kaden attacked me. At how he threw away our relationship, but now I know it wasn't him. He died a long time ago, it wasn't him," she said half sobbing."I believed you, but..but I just needed to see it..."

Artyom was about to correct her, explaining again how the creature that inhabited Kaden's mind mentioned it also absorbed his sentience, but he saw no need at the moment. She needed to believe Kaden was dead, and he was in no position to stop her.


	19. Chapter 19

Teryn threw a light stone slightly ahead of the patrol of skeletons. As one, the undead warriors turned and advanced towards the rock, just to be distracted and lured closer by another thrown rock. This process was repeated several more times, until Teryn threw his last rock right before the sturdy wooden door. The skeletons massed at the last stone, jostling and clawing at it, before Teryn yanked the top of the door down upon them.

Most of the skeletons were crushed immediately, but a few were still struggling to arise from beneath the door. Teryn calmly picked up his work hammer, and methodically smashed whatever extremity he could see until the door stopped shaking.

"Well, that's another batch of undead, but I'm still no closer to finding the exit," sighed Teryn.

After he had lured the long tongued skeleton creature into the well, Teryn had retrieved some tools off of the slain craftsman. A mallet, some rope, a few spikes, and a hand saw. They weren't much, but Teryn felt comfortable with them. He didn't feel like he was robbing his comrades, since they were already dead, and he had the suspicion that they would want to contribute to his survival.

After equipping himself, and venturing into the maze of tunnels that constituted the catacombs, Teryn was attacked by zombies. The craftsman noted how slow they were, and calmly led them to the well, arranged a crude plank, and watched them plummet to their doom.

Afterwards he found some hunched grey humanoids that were quicker and more aggressive, but Teryn calmly tricked them into a small room with his floating disk trick, and then hammered the door shut with his spikes.

Later still he encountered a shadow creature, but his light spells easily kept it at bay. Even now the shadow creature was watching him from afar, but Teryn could sense where it was in the darkness, and made sure to keep an eye on it in case it attempted to make a move against him.

It was odd. A few hours ago, Teryn would have screamed and ran from any danger, but now he seemed to be possessed with an almost supernatural courage. Teryn wasn't sure why that was. He wasn't foolhardy or ignorant of the evil around him. He was well aware of how any of these undead creatures could rip him to shreds, but his approach to them was more methodical than emotional.

With his meager magical training, Teryn wondered if it had something to do with him overcoming Flavius' charm spell. It seemed farfetched, but Teryn had once read of people gaining immunities for a time against any domination spell that they defeated. Maybe that affected his mind as well. Or perhaps defeating that big tongue skeleton gave Teryn some of its power. As any Grommer could tell you, a person grows more powerful if they defeat a monster. It seemed silly, but most adventurers hunted down beasts just to gain in power, but most would never admit it. They often made up stories that they were doing it for the experience.

Teryn also heard that insane people are often immune to fear, and that seemed the more likely scenario to him. Given the crazy stuff that he had seen in the past few days, it wouldn't surprise Teryn if he had gone completely batty. He even thought of a scenario in which he was on the streets of Lower Lueders, and he was actually killing homeless people instead of undead, but he quickly dismissed that since he wasn't cold. A crazy person couldn't simply imagine away the cold, could he?

Whatever the reason of his new found bravery, Teryn decided to question it for later. Right now he had to find his way out of here. While he had defeated several packs of undead, the craftsman felt no closer to finding his way out.

As Teryn was about to give up hope, he could hear a faint chanting off in the distance.

"Ohmga, Ohmga, Ohmga."

Teryn recalled that was what the cultists were chanting when they woke him up from his sleep, and he wondered if he was nearing the main level of the cathedral. With hammer in hand, and a rope slung to his shoulder Teryn headed in that direction.

It didn't take long until the chanting rose in volume. It echoed all around him, but Teryn couldn't pinpoint the location. He tried to make his way towards it by a muffled shout.

"Keel gem? "

"Chill then?"

"Eel Dan?"

Teryn wasn't sure what he heard, but it was followed by a lot of grunting and some more muffling before it grew quiet again. Regardless of what the source of the noise was, Teryn decided he should follow it, if only to find a way out of here. So far, most of the undead had been cleared from his area, save the shadow creature still following him, and despite his so called 'logical thinking' he was sure he was going in circles. He even tried following the 'left hand' rule and always kept the wall on his left hand side to methodically find the exit, but that proved useless as well.

Teryn shook his head at his own ineptitude. Maybe this wasn't the job for him. While he was fairly certain with his artistic abilities, the mechanical side of things still needed to be worked on. Most of his blinds worked fine, but they were the ones that followed his master's templates or some other designer's plans. When he had to make one from scratch their frames were too weak, the slats were spaced incorrectly, or in the case of his last project, the entire thing was too top heavy. Master Yael would quickly point out his mistakes, and Teryn would correct them, but he was a journeyman now, that shouldn't happen. Should it?

Teryn shrugged. It didn't matter if he was a bad blindman or not, that was what he was stuck with. What other decent profession he could get. He was good with people, bad with numbers. He guess he could add good with a hammer, but that didn't seem like anything you should put on a resume.

As Teryn advanced towards where he thought the muffled sounds came from, he heard a strange mewling noise, like a child crying, or a half starved kitten. The craftsman made his way to this new noise, and was disappointed to find himself again in a dead end.

Teryn sighed and was about to turn around to continue to seek his way out, when he heard a shuffle in the dark. He stared into the darkness and could see a strange flickering malevolent aura. It was much more intense than the one the shadow gave, but every few seconds it would wink out just to flare up again.

Hmm, when could I start seeing auras?

Teryn shove that thought out of his head, and instead drew one of the many light stones he had made and stuffed in a satchel he found from one of the dead craftsman. He took aim at a corner of the passage and tossed it gently ahead.

There was nothing on the ground, but to his surprise there was a horrid looking creature hanging from the roof. The light made it shy away slightly, but it held its ground at it stared at Teryn. Or at least Teryn thought it was staring at him. The creature resembled a grey colored brain, except it had four muscular cat feet. It was slightly slick in appearance but it didn't appear to leave any slime trails or drip any mucus. The creature should have sent Teryn screaming in horror, but for some reason it evoked more curiosity than terror.

"Now I know I've gone insane,"chuckled Teryn as he approached the creature with a stick. "I really out to be running and screaming right now."

Teryn made several poking motions at the creature with his stick, but the creature effortlessly crawled away from him on the roof. When it reached the wall, it flopped down, and landed on its feet like a cat. Teryn guessed it was waiting for him or another victim in ambush but luckily the length of his stick kept him at a safe distance. Instead of charging him though, the creature seemed lost in thought or at least unsure what to do.

Teryn had a good idea though, he gripped his mallet and was prepared to step up and squash it, but the creature suddenly scurried into the corner and began scratching the floor.

"No hurt I?" said Teryn as he read its message. "What in Koryis' academy does that mean little fella? You don't want to hurt me, or you don't want me to hurt you?"

The creature scratched the floor again. "Both."

"Oh, I see," chuckled Teryn. He wasn't sure if it was a trap or not, but he relaxed the grip on his hammer. He kept the creature at a safe distance but didn't advance towards it either.

"So what's your story little guy?" asked Teryn curious about this bizarre four legged brain.

The creature began furiously scratching the ground. "Pain, lost love, more pain, betrayal…." In its limited space in the corner, the creature began scratching out paragraphs and paragraphs of words, just to cover them and begin some other portion of his tale.

Teryn of course grew bored of this creature's ranting very fast. He fell into the mode where he would tune everything out, like what he often did with his master and sometimes did with Artyom when they began their long speeches. He simply nodded, said 'okay' and 'intersting' once in a while, and of course gave the creature his best concerned look.

When the creature appeared finished in whatever sad tale it was trying to convey, Teryn saw his opportunity.

"So little guy," interrupted the craftsman. "Can you show me the way out of here?"

The creature looked puzzled, and then began scratching a crude map on the ground. Teryn recognized a lot of the landmarks and thought it looked legitimate. It might have been a trap leading to more brain creatures, but for some weird reason he got a good feeling about it.

"Oh Thank you. Ahh, I see, the exit is in the center of the maze, that's why the 'left' hand rule doesn't work," said Teryn feeling awfully stupid.

The small creature, which Teryn started to call K, began to climb up its wall again. From the bits and pieces of its scribbling he did catch, Teryn thought it was a very depressed brain critter. He half expected the creature to follow him out, or at least follow him till it had an opportunity to strike, but it seemed content to brood hanging upside down in the corner of the ceiling.

Teryn studied the map intensely, and even made a copy with some parchment and charcoal from his satchel. He then looked at the creature and waved silently goodbye. With hammer in hand, he tried again to escape the catacomb.


	20. Chapter 20

Artyom glanced at his guardian as she lead them through the dark catacombs. He didn't have to be a cleric for him to see Oksana wasn't herself. She was twitchy, withdrawn, and gave the appearance of a person unhinged. Her eyes were wider than normal, she clutched her weapon tightly, and he was sure he heard her giggling madly to herself.

Not that he blamed her. She had gone through a lot. A lot more than she had signed up for. More than any servant of Bancroft should have to bear.

Artyom was filled with guilt. He had dragged her from the safety of the barony, to the underbelly of Thyatis and Grom, and now by his actions they were in the middle of a catacomb full of cultists and brain stealing creatures. If he wasn't so reckless she wouldn't have needed to keep such a close eye on him, both Frederick and Kaden might still be alive if it weren't for him.

Oh my gawd, I bet she blames all this on me.

Artyom couldn't face that. He could battle ghouls, mages, and whatever else. He could be humiliated, laughed at, and thrown into a dungeon, but he could not have Oksana hating her. He could not handle the weight of that. With father dead, and Frederick's brain eaten inside out, she was all he had. He always considered her a sister, but now when he realized he was all alone, she was the only family he had left.

"Oksana," said Artyom tentatively. "I think we should talk."

Oksana paused then took a step and then paused again. "I'm alright Artyom. I know I'm not myself, but I can handle this," she said in a halting voice before continuing forward.

Artyom wanted to say something but kept his mouth shut. Sometimes a person handled things better in silence. Sometimes you needed to….

Artyom stopped as he noticed Oksana's torch flicker unexpectedly. He stared at it and shook his head in disbelief. No, it didn't flicker, it inexplicably went visibly dimmer.

"Oksana," whispered Artyom.

Oksana held out her hand to silence him. "Yes, I know, we're being followed. "

Artyom instinctively twisted his head, but stopped as Oksana shot him a warning look. Instead he glanced side to side, and was puzzled at what he saw or more correctly didn't see.

He couldn't identify anyone or anything following him, but something was wrong. Though he couldn't see it, he felt something was in the darkness waiting and watching.

"Just keep walking, keep following me," said Oksana softly in their native Thyatian tongue.

Artyom did as told, and the pair kept moving down the corridor as if in ignorance. As they neared an intersection, Oksana turned a sharp right and they whirled around waiting for their pursuer.

Artyom's eyes narrowed as he watched. Was it some type of thief, or perhaps something small like a halfling or a goblin that could escape their notice? Maybe their pursuer was something more mystical? He saw nothing, so perhaps it was cloaked by an invisibility spell or it might have been something as primal as an air elemental. That would be more difficult to handle. Whatever it was, Artyom readied his daggers and waited with Oksana at his side. If he was going to die here, at least he would do so with his sister at his side.

Artyom waited, and waited, and then he waited some more, but nothing had followed them around the corner. Did their pursuer detect their ruse, sense their ambush? Or was it so hard to detect it was already upon them and they didn't even know?

Artyom's nerves were strained as nothing happened, his fear grew even as Oksana's torch dimmed further.

Artyom stopped and stared at the torch again. Did the flames just grow darker? Was that even possible? The flame was just as high before, but for some reason it sledded less light. Artyom's mind raced as he tried to connect the strange behavior of his torch with their invisible foe. Was it some type of undead? Or maybe something similar from the negative material plane?

Before he could deduce his opponent, the light dimmed once more as a rush of darkness surrounded them. Artyom wasn't sure what was happening but he found himself separated from Oksana as cold claws tore at his side. The young noble's side flared with pain, as he futilely weaved his daggers in a defensive pattern before him.

While he didn't feel his blades connected with anything, at least didn't feel his foe press his attack. Instead of being bolstered by his limited success, Artyom's spirits fell as he heard a painful yelp and then a hoarse grunt from Oksana. Artyom's eyes narrowed and he could barely make out his companion swinging wildly at a shadowy opponent. Artyom watched with despair, as the normally strong and powerful blows of Oksana seemed weak and ineffectual. Oksana's hazy foe, easily dodged her blows as it darted between her swings and tore away at her in the dimming light.

For whatever reason Artyom stopped and focused on the torch. Oksana was using Kaden's blade in one hand and using the torch as a parrying club in the other. Though she swung it aggressively at her attacker, Artyom could see it did little to douse the flame. If anything the increased air made the fire grow higher, but for some reason the light around them grow darker.

Artyom wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew he had to do something, and fast. Oksana was getting ripped apart, and he needed to relieve the pressure on her by drawing the creature's attention. Normally Oksana was the one that drew attention off of him when he struck out too aggressively, but now it was his turn to return the favor.

As Artyom flanked the formless monster, he wasn't sure how to grab its attention. He attempted a few stabs and lunges, but it had no effect. The shadow simply ignored him as it pressed Oksana further, almost toppling her as it clawed her leg. Artyom wasn't sure what to do and imagined what Oksana would do. Not the powerless Oksana before him, the broken woman fighting for her life, but the valiant warrior woman that had saved his life so many times, the woman that had spit into the eye of death and lived to tell about it.

Instinctively Artyom channelled all his rage and his anger and roared.

"RAAAHHHHHHHHH!" he shouted as he tried to intone an exaggerated form of Oksana's barritus. The feared battle cry of the Thyatian legions. Normally Artyom would not dare to shout it, as it was a matter of disrespect to use it if one did not serve in the legion, but he was short on options at this point.

Though the shout did little to divert the creature's attack, Artyom did notice something odd. The torch grew brighter. Artyom wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing but he shouted again.

"RAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed again as he flanked the shadow. The monster spun around to meet his blade, giving Oksana a chance to recover. Artyom fell into a defensive posture as he saw Oksana was no longer in danger, but he was clearly overmatched. Even though the monster's speed seemed slightly slower than before, all of Artyom's parries and ripostes were tossed aside by his attacker as it closed in to finish him off.

Artyom's neck was sliced by an impossibly quick blow and the nobleman's life flashed before him. It seemed clichéd, but all of Artyom's disappointments and defeats skipped through his mind's eye, in a great collage of failure. Both of his mother's death, his first failed love, the razing of his manor, the death of his father, even the recent events of his capture and the discovery of his brother's death flashed through his mind. Artyom spirits fell, this wasn't fair. He could see his death coming, but couldn't his mind replay some of his triumphs as well? It was all sadness, death, and loss.

"RAAHHHH!" shouted Oksana as she intoned her familiar barritus.

Instead of the mangled and half comical battlecry that constituted Artyom's version, Oksana's shout was clear and crisp, and shook Artyom to the core. It was like the first time the young nobleman heard her war shout, and miraculously it chased his fears and insecurities away. With his spirits restored, Artyom noticed that it wasn't the only thing that was affected. His eyes strayed to Oksana's torch and saw it flared brightly,finally shedding light on their elusive foe.

The monster was thin and shriveled, like a hairless old man. It had thin stretched skin and long claws, a frightful combination but nowhere near as terrifying when it was cloaked in shadow. It's power seemed tied to fear and doubt, and it shriveled under the aura of Oksana's courage. The revealed monster hissed at Artyom as it hopped back, but not before Oksana sliced a chunk out of its ribcage with her blade.

Several of the monster's ribs fell apart at the power of her sword, they broke like dry twigs. Despite its reduced speed and injury, the creature attempted to slip away as it found itself at a serious disadvantage. It dodged away from Oksana as she recovered from her swing, even as Artyom threw one of his daggers at it. It should have been an easy shot, but Artyom found the strength of his arm was gone. His dagger skittered on the floor well short of his target as the creature bolted away from the torch's light.

Artyom watched helplessly as the creature fled into the darkness, but watched as a brightly glowing rock skipped in front of it, stunning it in place followed by a hammer swung out of a hidden corridor that smashed the creature's head, blasting it in a dry dusty explosion.

"Ah ha!" said Teryn as he gleefully walked into view. "I finally caught you, you little bastard, oh hey hi Oksana, hi Artyom."

"What?" asked Artyom as the adrenaline left him and he felt weak in the knees. Oksana raced to his side, ripped a portion of her tunic, and applied pressure to his neck with it.

Artyom's vision faded in and out but he heard snippets of a conversation.

"Hey, your boss doesn't look too good..."

"I heard some shouts…."

"I have a map…"

"Some strange critter gave it to me….."

"Follow me …."

Artyom wasn't sure what happened next, but he felt a hand touch his neck, and his vision begin to clear.

"How did you do that? " asked Oksana voice, as Artyom tried to focus.

"Do what? Oh the neck healing thing? " replied Teryn with a confused voice. "I'm actually not sure, but let's figure that out after we get the hell outta here."


	21. Chapter 21

Teryn looked at his map. According to the scribbles he transcribed from the weird brain cat critter, the exit should be just past the double skull corridor, left from the three standing coffins, and then behind the small finger bone curtain. Teryn didn't recall any finger bone curtain, or whatever the brain thing drew when he entered, and the blindman part of him thought it was poor professional courtesy not to notice, but he supposed that it might have been simply drawn back at the time, or cleverly hidden by a well-constructed recess on the wall.

With map in one hand, and light stone in the other, Teryn lead the beaten Artyom, and the shaken Oksana through the last stretch of the catacomb. Though he never considered himself a leader, there was a spring in his step and a confidence that flowed through him that felt strangely natural. He still wasn't sure where it came from, but having whacked a bunch of the living dead recently and broke free of Flavius' charm certainly helped his ego.

"Where almost outta here," said Teryn. " I don't see any evil auras nearby, so we should be safe for now. We'll just warn my friend Captain Fetch about this mad house, and then I might be able to catch that Count Peter guy."

"Petyr," corrected Oksana, rolling the 'R' in correct Thyatian pronunciation.

Teryn rolled his eyes. These were foreigners in Grom, they should be expected to speak his language not the other way around. He looked to Artyom for support but instead the nobleman returned an inquisitive stare.

"Are you a paladin?" asked Artyom out of nowhere.

"Pardon?" chuckled Teryn.

"Are you a paladin?" repeated Artyom his gaze narrowing.

"Heavens, no. I'm not a crusading holy warrior. I'm just a maker of blinds. I'm what you called an expert in my field. I'm so bad with weapons, that I was almost kicked out of the militia for clumsiness beyond common expectation during drills," laughed Teryn.

"You certainly wielded that mallet proficiently, you dispatched that Allip with a single blow," said Oksana.

"A lip? Allip? Is that the technical name for that thing? I've just been calling it the shadowy thing, but I guess Allip is as good a name as any," shrugged Teryn. "I knew it was following me for a while, so I knew it was around the area. It was just chance I heard all that roaring and decided to check it out. As for my mallet swing, well any craftsman worth his salt can swing a hammer."

"How about your aura sight?" asked Artyom. "How do you explain that?"

Teryn snorted."Oh that? I told you I was a mage didn't I? We can see auras all the time, but most of the timed its magic and sometimes we can see poison. I suppose being in this crypt for so long, I've just adapted my vision."

Artyom frowned, he did not seem convinced by the explanation.

"I mean really? Doesn't it take years of training to be paladin. Years of combat practice, locked in a monastery, no sex, questing all the time, that type of stuff?" stated Teryn.

Oksana shook her head. "While that is an exaggerated preconception for their training, it is true that most paladins and other holy crusaders require a bit more specialized training. However, it is not unheard of for someone to be gifted by a paladin's trait if they defeat a great evil."

"Great evil huh? I don't think dropping a door on some skeletons, or locking some flesh eating guys in a room counts does it? Or maybe it was the big skeleton with the big long fleshy tongue I tricked into a well."

"A morgh? " asked Oksana, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Yes, we are in a morgue. No, I dropped it in a well, wait…I think we've reached the exit," said Teryn as they reached a flight of stone steps that went upwards.

Oksana took the lead, as they ascended and they soon found themselves in a back antechamber with what appeared to be the soft morning light coming in from a high window. The room appeared to be a storage chamber of some sort, with spare furniture and chairs piled high along the wall, but even Teryn could tell it has been heavily traveled through, by the wear on the floor and the dirty tracks all around them.

While Teryn was pretty sure he didn't enter from this point, he was just glad to be out of that undead filled hole.

"We're finally out, but we're not in the clear yet," warned Oksana in a low voice. "We still have to get out of this church."

"And then its off to warn the guard and Count Petyr," nodded Artyom. "The quicker we expose this nest of evil the better."

Oksana crept to one of the doors and took a peek past. "Damn, most of the workmen are gone. It's just guards, and 'priests'. I was hoping to sneak past by posing as one of the laborers."

Artyom shook his head. "Well, you know. We could just walk out."

"Eh?" asked Teryn and Oksana.

"I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. Since they haven't sent an armed patrol down into the catacombs, or guarded its entrance or entrances as the case may be, that means they aren't aware of our escape attempt or that we dispatched Kaden."

Teryn noticed Oksana gritted her teeth, but remained silent at the mention of her former lover.

"If anything they would be suspicious of Kaden coming out instead of myself. He said he was supposed to take over my body. So as long as we don't act weird it should be fine. They'll think I'm him, or he's me. Or you know what I'm getting at."

"Couldn't they just read your mind and confirm that you aren't one of them. I don't know the full extent of their powers, but I'm amusing brains with feet can do that kinda stuff," pointed out Teryn.

Artyom shrugged. "Not all of them are possessed vessels, most are just charmed. Also from my talk with Kaden, I did not get that impression they scanned each other constantly. They like their privacy too I guess. Besides, we just have to fool enough to make it to the exit."

Oksana motioned with her chin to Teryn and then bowed slighted to point to herself. "What about us? Were we supposed to be taken over as well?"

Teryn shook his head. "From what I gathered and from what I learned from Teryn, they have mental powers of domination. The thing in Kaden's head wanted Oksana as a err companion…and they wanted Teryn to bait Count Petyr a second time. If anything you two would be my thralls or servants. "

"Not unlike our regular roles," chuckled Oksana. While Teryn took offence at the slight, the big bodyguard broke out from her morose and smiled.

While he had seen her smile before, it was a rare occurrence, especially after their ordeal in the catacomb. Teryn wasn't sure why, but he realized there was something alluring about her he couldn't put a finger on. Maybe it was her powerful presence, he admitted to himself that he liked women that were both strong physical and mental attributes. Or maybe it was the morning light catching her now messy blonde hair. Even through the dirt, it kind of shined like strands of spun gold. Or maybe it was the contrast of her strength and frailty. Teryn wasn't too sure of what happened to her, but it was some deep emotional stuff. He didn't want to take advantage of a woman in such a mental state, but that didn't mean he found himself drawn to her because of it.

"Teryn…Teryn….did you get all of that," said Oksana as she waved her hand in front of the craftsman face. "Do you know what you are supposed to do?"

"Err….follow you guys?" guessed Teryn as he was pulled out of his fantasy.

Artyom sighed. "Good enough, let's go."

The nobleman closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then confidently walked into the main Cathedral's hallway. Oksana and Teryn followed, at a suitably humble distance as Artyom made his way to the big double doors at the opposite end of the main chamber.

Though Teryn was mainly focused on escaping, he couldn't help but notice how his fellow craftsman had transformed the place. Gone was the dozen work stations and their matching piles of supply. Replaced were beautiful pews, fountains, statues, and murals dedicated to the glory of Vanya. The centerpiece of the whole thing of course was the great stained glass window that dominated the west wall of the structure, and of course the mighty blinds that hung overhead of them.

"Quicken your pace, " said Artyom. The noble then seemed stuck on a suitable word. "…er thralls. I don't have all day."

Some of the guards and priests glanced at Artyom, and gave him a curious look. Teryn thought they would be discovered and would be forced to fight their way through. He gripped his mallet at his side in anticipation of combat, but instead the priests returned to their business.

Their group collectively sighed in relief as they made it through the gauntlet of cultists and reached the main door. Just as they were about to exit, the doors smoothly slid open, and a small group of men walked through.

"Excellent there you are master Teryn. Oh, it's you Artyom,"said Count Petyr past his ring of guards. His voice quickly went from cordial to snide. "If you say another disparaging remark or even attempt to connect myself to your father's death again in either a public or private forum, my patience and respect for your family will have run its course. I'll see you in the Thyatian courts for slander if I hear another word directed my way. However, I'm not here to trade barbs with you, I'm here to see master Teryn."

Teryn was surprised his name was mentioned, but stepped up and instinctively bowed to the Count. Petyr returned a much shorter bow in return. "Your little friend here, said you needed to see me, or you needed help? I'm not quite certain since my draconic is a bit rusty. I tend to mix up tenses, and the dual meaning of most draconic words."

Teryn scratched his head. His friend? Before he could deduce the answer, a small dragon popped onto the Count's shoulder before launching himself into Teryn's arms.

"Nocker! I'm so glad to see you," exclaimed Teryn as he hugged his small winged buddy. "Wait..he can talk?"

"Hah, you amuse me kind craftsman. Of course, he can talk. He is a dragon after all," laughed Count Petyr. "Anyways, we need to discuss arrangements for you to arrive in Thyatis. Set up dates, times, and contacts, since I am leaving Lueders tonight. I thought it was a nice touch, you sent a dragon to contact me."

"Lord Petyr, we need to talk right away. It's of great importance," interrupted Artyom. "Please my lord."

The Count raised his nose at the young noble. "I thought I said, I did not want to deal with you, but I suppose you did show me the proper reverence. Perhaps, you've finally grown a little…."

As the Count walked towards Artyom, the main double doors of the Cathedral loudly slammed shut behind him. One of the Count's guards struggled to open the door, but it was firmly shut and sealed. Both Petyr's men and the 'priests' seemed confused at this turn events, but all went quiet when a clap rang through the main hall.

"Well done, well done my brother. You killed Kaden, but it looks like you've inadvertently brought me our intended prize," said Frederick as he pushed through the priests with roughly a dozen guards. "I tire of this host, and I think I require finer accommodations. "

"Err, we should get his door open right away," suggested Teryn. The craftsman didn't feel fear, but he knew when they were in danger. Oksana, the guard, and himself all struggled at the door, but to no avail.

"What the hell are you babbling about boy?" demanded Petyr, ignoring Teryn's efforts.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough. You can pick my brain all day long if you need, or more likely I'll be doing the same with you," sneered Frederick, just as the main hall of the Cathedral of Vanya exploded into violence.


	22. Chapter 22

Artyom stood before his brother Frederick with daggers drawn in a low combat stance, against his rapier and main gauche in a high relaxed stance. The two brothers squared off against each like they've done a hundred times before, both waiting for the other to make a move. The pair were in a calm little world of their own, even as the rest of the cathedral was caught in a maelstrom of violence.

To the left of Artyom, Count Petyr and his guards launched themselves against the cultist in a wedge. Instead of cowering from the back, Petyr was at the point of the wedge slicing the now golden robed priests before him, using the pews to restrict their movements, as his mages launched lightning and bolts of force at them. Did the cultists change their clothes or was it just an illusion?

To his right, Oksana held the line with her blade with Teryn covering her flank. The two weren't as aggressive as Petyr and his men, but Artyom knew her long enough to not question her tactics.

"I need to avenge your last point, but I won't gain it with an unfair advantage," said Frederick over the din of battle. Artyom's older brother flicked open his pouch and drew out a silver rapier that was much longer than it could hold. Frederick tested its weight, nodded, before tossing it to his brother.

Artyom easily caught it, and admired it briefly before he returned to his stance. "A nice blade, though silver was never your colour."

Frederick smiled. "Aye, it was meant as a gift for you. I was hoping to present it to you back in Bancroft, something to catch you off guard with."

Artyom snorted and grinned. "A nice gesture. I would have probably even fallen for it, but you can drop the charade now. You're not Frederick, you're just his shell."

Frederick nodded and gave an exaggerated curtsy before lunging at his brother. Artyom easily blocked the blow with a circular parry, before swatting away Frederick's sword and returning a lunge of his own. Frederick however gauged the distance expertly and simply took a step back to place himself a mere inches out of Artyom's reach.

"True, but that doesn't mean his thoughts do not reside in mine," commented Frederick casually as he began walking in a circular arc towards Artyom's weaker side. Artyom obliged by matching his brother's step. "Their fascinating in a strange way, in all their bloated, aristocratic, entitled glory. Your brother really did enjoy his indulges in the flesh, and other darker pursuits."

"Oh, don't you dare go there," said Artyom. He began to giggle and waved a warning figure at Frederick, before throwing one of his daggers at him. The throw was wide to the left, and Frederick easily side stepped the blow to the right, but Artyom was already moving and on him. The young nobleman's blade slashed his bigger brother's side scoring a long crimson mark before Frederick recovered his defensive stance.

"A point for you," nodded Frederick as he fell back into his easy combat stance. "A new move I see, I'm impressed."

Artyom nodded at the compliment. "I'm surprised you didn't see that coming, given your nature," he said while tapping his head.

Frederick rolled his eyes. "I see you've been talking a bit too much with 'Kaden', I hoped you dispatch him in a messy fashion, if anything he was holding me back. As for me reading your mind, executing that skill in battle is nearly an impossible skill to master. I've only heard of one Githyanki that could pull that off that trick."

"Aww, I was expecting you to say you were giving me a sporting chance or something," laughed Artyom. Frederick joined him, and for a moment it was like they were boys again, pretending to be knights battling monsters and dangers in the woods.

Their mirth was short lived though, as both brothers exploded towards each other. Frederick feinted a wide over head slash, which Artyom easily saw through. The young noble, did not take the bait and did not attempt to dive underneath the blow. He instead skipped a step, before stepping into his surprised brother. Artyom's dagger locked into Frederick's rapier as his rapier pierced his brother's side, before Artyom could withdraw to safety though, Frederick's main gauche flashed out of nowhere, and stabbed him straight through the arm. Pain shot through Artyom as he dropped his dagger before limping away.

Artyom's left hand went limp but he maintained his posture and forced himself to raise his blade high. While Frederick's injury was more critical, the bigger brother simply eyed it momentarity before returning into his standard stance as if nothing happened.

"I would say that's a point for each of us," smiled Frederick.

Artyom shook his head. "No. A point and a half for you. I've lost my dagger, while you still have your gauche. "

Frederick nodded as Artyom conceded the half point and both brothers fell into their waiting game again. For Artyom it was more of a necessity since his arm was useless and he fell into a defense posture, while Frederick was simply savoring his impending victory.

As he waited Artyom saw Oksana standing over three fallen golden robes, another guard was on the ground screaming with what looked like Nocker stinging his face, and Teryn was busy fending off an armored guard. Meanwhile Count Petyr had swept his side of the cathedral with his bodyguards. One of his guards attempted to intervene and flank Frederick, but the Count waved him off. There won't be any interference in this family duel.

"I always liked Count Petyr," commented Frederick. "A good, honorable man that did his time for the Empire. Everything you would want from a noble unlike slackers like you and I. A shame we played our hand too early."

"Much too early," stated Artyom. "Your friends are losing, you won't be claiming him as a host."

"We shall see," said Frederick before striking again.

Artyom knew he was at a disadvantage. His brother's shell ignored wounds and still had his main gauche, while Artyom's arm was useless and he was minus a weapon. Frederick didn't need to confuse or obfuscate his attacks anymore, he just needed to press his advantage with a prolonged engagement. Every swing and clash of blades would be a 'point' in Frederick's favor.

Frederick's initial flurry was an overhead strike that threw Artyom back when he raised his blade to parry it. Artyom stumbled back, losing his balance briefly due to his lame arm, but managed to shuffle out of the path of Frederick's stabbing gauche. Before he could recover, Frederick slammed his blade down again, driving him downwards once more.

Artyom knew he would be quickly worn down at this rate, instead of resuming his stance, he threw himself to the side, tucking himself tightly into a roll, before springing up at Frederick's side.

Frederick took a step back, resumed his stance and pressed forwards once again. Instead of retreating again Artyom lunged forward with his rapier, aiming low at Frederick's foot. Though his brother easily saw through his attack last time in the catacombs, his reaction came a tad too late as Artyom's managed to stab straight through Frederick's boot and impaled it against the ground.

Frederick gave his brother a disappointed look. He tried to shuffle back, but found himself still stuck, and lost his balance briefly. Artyom seized that opportunity and shoulder checked his brother in the gut, sending him toppling to the ground. Before he hit the ground, Artyom with a smooth motion yanked his blade out of the boot, raised it overhead and stabbed his brother straight through his nose.

Frederick crossed his eyes and stared at the sword protruding out of his face in shock, "A…A….poi..nt….for….you…..",he conceded before he expired. Artyom however wasn't convinced, he withdrew his blade and stabbed his brother again straight through the skull. Artyom half expected a flicker of recognition in his dieing brother's eyes, like he had seen in Kaden, but he returned nothing but a blank expression. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved at his blank stare.

"Enough of that son," said Count Petyr as he wiped his blade. Oksana and Teryn had held their ground, while Petyr and his men cleared the upper Cathedral of cultists. "The battle's over. I don't know what made these men attack us like that, but there's no need to mutilate the dead, especially your own blood."

Artyom shook his head as he pried Frederick's skull open, revealing a bloodied brain with four cat like legs impaled on his sword. "That is not my brother, my brother died a long time ago," said Artyom choking on his words.

Petyr's men took a step back at the horrific sight, even as the Count stepped forward to take a closer look. "Hrmm, an intellect devourer, or at least some version of it. This explains a lot. I met one in a metal dungeon in the Barrier Peaks a while ago, and I heard they infest the sewers of Waterdeep, I never thought I would see one here in Grom."

Artyom had not heard of either of those places, but simply nodded before he collapsed in exhaustion. Oksana easily caught him and sat him down on one of the pews, before returning to Frederick's body and retrieving his magical satchel. She reached in, and easily found his healing potions which she promptly poured down Artyom's throat.

"Err excuse me," said Teryn from the back even as some strength returned to Artyom's arm. "We should leave now, before Flavius shows up. You don't want to mess with that guy."

Count Petyr turned to the craftsman and raised an eyebrow. " Flavius? Senator Flavius? I thought he was assassinated last year? Butchered to high heavens from what I heard. He was mutilated so bad, that not even the clerics could raise him. Not that they tried hard, considering all the atrocities that he's rumored to have committed."

"Oh those weren't rumors my dear Petyr," boomed a voice from overhead. "I freely admit I did those deeds and many more. "

Artyom looked up and saw what appeared to be Senator Flavius descending down on them from the roof. The man was wearing a simple toga, but was covered head to toe with deep roughly stitched scars. A black nimbus surrounded him as he floated above them.

"Flavius you old bastard," shouted Count Petyr from below. "I should have known it would take more than a few cuts to put you down. Why don't you come down here, and I'll give you a few more to finish the job."

"Oh, I think not," said Flavius as he spread his hands out while dark tendrils erupted from the floor.


	23. Chapter 23

"Yeowtch!" yelped Teryn as Nocker dug his claws into his shoulders.

While the craftsman did not feel as intimidated as the last time he met the old Senator, the same didn't go for his dragon. Teryn hopped around in pain, trying to dislodge the little beast until he tripped over a golden robed corpse and fell on the floor.

As Teryn laid on the ground and finally dislodged Nocker from his shoulders, he heard Senator Flavius exchanged words with Count Petyr before the ground suddenly exploded into shadowy tendrils.

Teryn barely had enough time to roll to the side under some pews, before a large ink jet tentacle smashed into the ground where mere moments he had laid. Teryn from his hiding spot, shot a glance around and saw that the rest of his allies did not fare so well. Oksana was barely standing as her waist and arm was ensnared. She chopped away furiously at them, but it was to no avail. Artyom was already on the ground, his face almost fully entwined. Teryn had caught a bit of the young nobleman's fight with his brother and was surprised he was still struggling. Most of Count Petyr's men were simply overwhelmed and buried by the writhing mass. A red headed mage briefly burned some of the tentacles off of her in a bright orange flare, but more sprouted out and crushed her before she could escape.

"Necromany!" shouted Petyr even as the old man was hoisted upside down by one foot before the floating Flavius.

"Yes, " smiled Flavius. "One of the reasons I've kept this broken crippled body instead of taking another is that it is infused with negative energy. This host was a practitioner of the dark arts long before I inhabited his mind. He was boring though, always keeping in the shadows, playing the hero and elder statesman, when in reality he was as dark hearted as they come."

"Why are you doing this?" demanded Petyr as he ignored is precarious situation.

Flavius saw the irony of his attitude and laughed. "My dear Petyr, I am doing it merely for the sensations. Just look at this body, all the scars I've enjoyed and relished when my host was cut down. If it weren't for my unique physiology and Flavius' magic, I would have been long dead, but I endured and enjoyed every stab of pain and drank every ache of misery. It's been quite a heady experience actually, more than what I'm normally accustomed to. I think I might have gotten a bit reckless from it actually."

"You're one of those intellect devourers aren't you?" accused Flavius.

"My you are a sharp one. But to answer your question yes and no. I am like one of your so called intellect devourers as you are to one of this world's arboreal swinging creatures. Monkeys I think they are called. The intellect devourers and I are similar I admit, but they're from this world, while I come from a much farther realm," said Flavius.

As Flavius boasted, a heavy knocking came from outside the double doors of the cathedral.

"By the order of Lord Commander Kerr and the city guard of Lower Lueders, open this door!" shouted what sounded like Captain Fetch to Teryn. A bit of hope sprang up in the craftsman heart, they were to be rescued.

Flavius shook his head and pointed at the door. "I was wondering why they would should up. Frederick and Kaden had been a bit sloppy, and it wouldn't surprise me that the enclave in Upper Lueders finally revealed our intentions, though they are but clueless catspaws. It doesn't matter though, they'll never get through my wards…."

The double doors glowed brightly as wards flared and dissipated. Even the great stain glass was bathed in a blue aura before they shuddered and fell still.

"Hmm…interesting. The local constabulary is much more competent than I anticipated. Still, it won't matter. I'll simply kill everyone and inhabit your body Petyr. I'm good at hiding when I want to be. Unlike Frederick and Kaden, I won't reveal my hands so casually,"sighed Flavius. With that he waved his hand and the tentacles tossed Petyr against the stained glass with a heavy thud. Instead of shattering though, the mural to Vanya stood firm as the Count's body broke instead.

"This was supposed to be a simple trap to lure you here, so we can make you one of us so to speak. Afterwards, we would bring more of our brethren into this realm, and slowly infect more hosts, but something went wrong," shrugged Flavius to no one in particular. "But nevermind, I care not for my slain fellows, it's always has been about me you know. "

The Senator walked up to the prone Petyr and knelt over his body, he lowered his mouth towards the Count's lips even as he stretched them out with his fingers.

"Stop!"

Flavius shot up and looked around, and then he chuckled. "Oh, its you the craftsman. Teryn."

Teryn paused and was shocked to see it was indeed him. For some reason he slid out of his hiding spot, and challenged the Senator. He wasn't afraid of him, but he was well aware of their difference in power. There was brave, but this was clearly stupid.

"I was wondering if my charm still held you under my sway, but I assume that Artyom or his wench dispelled it when they foiled your first attempt at Petyr?"

Teryn glanced at his companions. Oksana was finally brought down, she grunted and writhed like a woman possessed on the ground but the tentacles held firm. Artyom was in worse shape, he was fully entwined now, and only a big bump on the ground indicated to Teryn where he stood.

"You don't have to do this. You can make your escape down the catacombs. They'll know if you inhabit Petyr's body. Your secret is out," said Teryn though he wasn't sure if they would actually detect him. Those intellect devourer things had lasted this long and escaped detection, they might do so again.

Flavius nodded. "Aye, the catacombs. It was a pleasant surprise to find a nexus, however small to my world in these parts, but it's much too small for me to escape in. I admire you though Teryn, even though I knew where you were, you could have stayed hidden but instead you revealed yourself in an attempt to save your friends. Self sacrifice is one sensation I have little experience with, but I'll leave that for another time. It was a valiant attempt to spare your friends, but I'm afraid like I said, no witnesses."

Before Teryn could react, Flavius gestured towards him with a wave of his hand and Teryn found himself grabbing the dark dagger he gave him so long ago. Teryn was surprised he still had that item, and thought he had lost it a while ago, but the dagger somehow found itself in his hands and his hands were moving slowly towards his own neck.

Despite his struggles, Teryn's hand moved with a will of his own as the dagger crept closer to his own throat. Teryn expected himself to beg, plead, or perhaps cry for mercy towards Flavius, but instead he fought with his dying breath to stay his hand.

Suddenly Nocker snaked out from behind Teryn's back and stung his hand three times in the breadth of a blink. The controlled hand jolted back a bit and flashed the blade towards the dragon instead. Teryn wasn't sure what happened next, but he found himself standing over the body of Nocker, black blood oozing from his tiny body, while his hand hung limply at his side.

"A nice effort, but let's get on with," said Flavius as the knocking outside intensified.

Once again Teryn's hand with the black dagger inched towards his neck, but this time it couldn't make it. It was too swollen from the dragon's poison to even hold the weapon anymore and it finally fumbled and dropped the dagger instead.

"This is ridiculous, " said Flavius throwing up his hands. "I guess I can use more magic, but they'll be looking for that. I'll need to dispatch you the old fashioned way. I don't mind though, I love the sensation of killing someone with your own hands," he said as his fingernails began to grow in length.

Teryn knew his doom was coming, but he couldn't escape it. What could he do but accept his fate? The room was covered with tendrils, and the only exit was the catacombs. He saw the Senator, standing over the Count, who were both under the big stain glass, and then he knew what to do.

The craftsman ran towards Flavius, arms over his head. Flavius smiled and readied his claws for the charge, but instead of heading towards Flavius, Teryn jumped to the side and grabbed the wooden ball hanging from a rope and gave it a sharp twist.

A sudden flurry of movement caught Flavius' attention and the clawed monstrosity turned around to see great wooden slats fall into place one after the other. Each successive slat seemed to form a part of a great symbol as they revealed themselves.

Flavius laughed at the sight even as Teryn grabbed Petyr and dragged him away. "A symbol of Vanya? Really? Just because I'm a necromancer doesn't mean I'm affected by a silly holy symbol. You'll have to do better than ….."

The Senator's speech was cut short as the last slat fell into the place. The shock of the final falling panel seemed to send a shudder up the entire device, violently shaking it from its hook. With sudden terror, Flavius looked up, as two tons of wood, rope, and gears came crashing down on his head.

"Nooooooo…" he shouted before being smashed where he stood.

Teryn looked around and saw the tendrils slowly dissipating. He then turned towards his fallen creation and shook his head. "Well, I guess master Yarl was right. I did make it too top heavy."


	24. Chapter 24

"Wake up Artyom!"

Artyom ignored his servant Oksana, but woke up to the sharp sting of a slap. The young noble shot up from the floor of the cathedral to witness the carnage around him.

"What's happening Oksana, is it over?" asked Artyom as flashes of tentacles, death, and Frederick flooded back into his mind.

Oksana spat a black substance out of her mouth before wiping it off, and then pointed to the big stain glass window. Teryn knelt in front of it with a large pile of lacquered wood and rope in a pile behind him. A pair of twisted, heavily scarred and stitched legs stuck out from the rubble.

"Senator Flavius," said Artyom as Oksana helped him up. A dark ichor still clung to his body, but the young noble powered his way through and limped his way to the stained glass. As the two approached, Artyom saw two of Petyr's guards attend to the wounded. One helped the count, while the other helped the strangely attractive red headed mage. She turned weakly to Artyom and gave him a thumbs up, which he awkwardly returned back. The last guard, a thin wizard looking young man, was sadly beyond help.

"Check his head," said Artyom before he reached Teryn and the rubble. "Check the senator's head."

Teryn looked up with grief in his eyes. His small dragon lay injured on the ground from a black fell wound. The craftsman nodded to Artyom before he began throwing the broken wooden planks off Flavius' body.

"Careful, he's still dangerous," warned Artyom as both he and Oksana raised their weapons.

Before he knew what happened a grey blur flashed from the rubble, knocking Teryn down as it attempted to dash past Artyom and Oksana. Artyom was taken by surprise, but Oksana managed a swing at it, slamming the creature into a pillar. The big body guard followed up to finish the wounded beast, but the creature scurried on the ground striking Oksana's foot, catching her off balance, and knocking her to the ground. Instead of striking at the now stunned Oksana, the strange brain beast scampered on the ground towards one of the slain cultists.

Artyom however, would have none of that. This creature, Senator Flavius, intellect devourer, or whatever else it wished to call itself was responsible for his father's death and his brothers. Artyom forced himself up and charged the scurrying beast. With both hands on his rapier he jumped forward and impaled his blade into the center of the brain.

"Hiss, wheezzee, hisss,"

Artyom looked at his foe, and saw his sword did indeed strike it. However, instead of piercing its hide his rapier merely pinned the creature to the ground. Artyom pressed his sword further into it, but all the creature did was squirm and struggle to slip free from his grasp.

Artyom couldn't believe it, this creature was supposed to die by his hand, but his blade wasn't sharp enough to kill it. All he could do was keep it pinned, and already he could feel the creature struggling free. Every hiss and gurgle the creature made, was transformed into taunts in Artyom's mind. Was there no justice in the world?

"Here, let me give you a hand buddy," said Teryn as he pushed his way next to Artyom. The craftsman held his simple mallet up high, before bringing it crashing down on top of the rapier's hilt. Artyom wasn't sure what happened, but he was positive the mallet flashed a divine glow as it struck, driving his sword through the pinned creature.

A silent scream filled the cathedral as the creature shook and shuddered. Artyom was forced on one knee from Flavius' deathcry before the wailing stopped. Just as Flavius finished his last death throes, the main double doors were thrown off their hinges, narrowly missing Count Petyr as the city guard finally broke through.

"Baron Frederick of Bancroft, by the authority of Grom under Lord Commander Kerr, you are hereby placed under arrest for harboring Yellow Lord cultists," declared Captain Fetch as the tall young man walked in with his massive stone hammer in hand. "Oh, never mind it looks like he's dead."

Teryn dug through his pouch and produced some tongs which he used to pick up the dead brain creature that inhabited Flavius. "Hey Fetch, tell your men to watch out for these little critters. They might look small but they're tough."

"Oh hey Teryn," said Captain Fetch in a cherry voice. "Damn, these wee beasties are ugly."

"Yeah, watch out. Apparently they can get in your head,"said Teryn. "There's a bunch of walking dead and there might be more brain guys in the catacombs underneath here as well, but I'm not sure."

Captain Fetch nodded before ordering his men to check the bodies and under the pews for more of the creatures. He also sent a heavy detachment of guards supported by mages and clerics to scour the catacombs. The Captain then said a few words and began to check the survivors, presumably to see if they've been possessed.

"Artyom right?" asked Fetch when he finally reached the young nobleman.

Artyom nodded before sitting slowly down, exhaustion finally taking its toll.

"We scoured the ruins like you said, and caught some cultists. It didn't take much for them to point out the Cathedral of Vanya and Frederick, but it looks like you handled this nicely by yourselves. I'm sorry about your brother. If it's any consolation, the records will indicate Frederick was possessed at the time of his collusion with the Yellow Lord cultists. It's a small gesture, but it will preserve your family honor," said the Captain before he turned his attention to the other wounded.

Artyom shrugged as he looked at his silver rapier. It was a gift from Frederick, despite him being possessed. He didn't want to think about it, but from his talk with Kaden, he knew there was a part of Frederick that alive in that creature. It was horrifying to believe, but he just didn't slay the creature inhabiting Frederick, he slew a part of his brother as well.

"What…what's going on here!" demanded Count Petyr as Captain Fetch's ministrations finally brought him to consciousness. He thrashed about until he saw Senator's Flavius' corpse under the pile of wood. "You unhand me. I don't need a lowly militia captain, bring me a real cleric."

Captain Fetch frowned and took a step back, even as the Count's remaining bodyguards rushed to Petyr to assist him.

"Artyom, come here," demanded Petyr as he was finally helped to his feet.

Artyom looked at Oksana who nodded at the request. The young noble forced himself up and walked to his old nemesis.

"You and I have never gotten along. Even when your father was alive, you were always full of venom towards my house. With Frederick I could simply ignore you and mostly turn a blind eye to your slander, but like it or not, you are the Baron now. I propose we restart our relationship," said Petyr.

Artyom nodded. Though he detested the man, he was not his enemy. "I agree. I apologize for any ill intent I had for you when I was seeking out my father's killer. "

Count Petyr nodded. "Well, to be honest I admire your determination, and you impressed me in that fight there. Frederick and I had a good working relationship back home. Even though it seems it was set up for nefarious reasons, it had benefited our fiefdoms greatly both militarily and economically. With his passing I wish to reassure both our mutual allies and enemies that Bancroft and Vanif still stand together. If I may be so bold, I suggest a strategic marriage to cement our houses."

Artyom cringed at the thought and would have threw up right there if Oksana had not elbowed him in the small of the back. He had only met his daughter once when he was small, and she was nothing but a shy, chubby girl that kept to her books. He couldn't imagine spending his life with someone as dull and sheltered as that….but he was the baron now. A political marriage was not an uncommon thing, and he had already made so many mistakes since his father died, it was time he did something positive for the Barony for a change.

"From your face, it seems your tentative of the proposal," smirked Petyr. "Are you holding out for a bigger dowry? The County of Vanif is one of the richest fiefdoms in the Empire, not to mention your barony does hold a lot of debt…"

"I'll do it," sighed Artyom regretfully. Though he hate to admit it, but his misguided time adventuring was the best year and a half of his life. Images of his adventurous life was replaced with him being shackled to a fat noblewoman afraid of her own shadow flashed through his head. "Run the arrangements through Oksana, my castellan, or whatever her new role is now."

"Seneschal and well paid housecarl," smiled Oksana who obviously approved of the deal.

Petyr smiled and then turned to the attractive red head mage besides him. "Hear that Katrina, you won't have a reason to follow dear old dad around anymore. You can follow Artyom around now and keep him out of trouble instead."

The attractive red head bowed to Artyom in proper custom as well as giving him a wink and mischievous smile.

Artyom was speechless. Just as Oksana prodded him forward again with an elbow to the back, the entire cathedral echoed with a whispery voice.

"Justice sees not the colour of one's skin, nor the rank of their birth.

Wealth, power, fame are trivial when one faces the Blindman."

Artyom thought the whole cathedral dimmed slightly before a non-descript man cloaked in shadows hopped out of the darkness with a longsword and a dagger in hand next to the great stain glass.

"Earl?" asked Captain Fetch who was tending Teryn's dragon. He was the first to recover from the man's stunning entrance, and stood up casually to greet him.

"Oh, hi Fetch," said the man whose shadowy nimbus rapidly faded. "I see, I'm a bit too late. Err, was my entrance too dramatic? I've been working on a 'call sign' so to speak to spread my legend."

"Legend, I thought you gave up killing people for money?"

Earl pointed to the brain creature. "I wouldn't call that a person."

"Mater Yarl? What are you doing here? "asked a shocked Teryn.

"Oh hey Teryn, umm I would like to ask you the same question," replied Yarl as he poked first at Flavius's dead body and then at his skewered brain.

"Err…I'm on shop business," replied Teryn. "I have a contract from ..err Baron Artyom there. Solo out of town contracts are a lot harder than it looks. "

Before Yarl could answer, Count Petyr pointed towards him. "I..I know you. You're the Grandfather of Assassins, you're the Blindman! I heard they contracted you out for Flavius last year."

Yarl bowed, even as he stepped into the shadows once more. "I'm just here finishing the job. I would have gotten here sooner, but my sorceress friend couldn't quite penetrate the man's wards till now."

Teryn shook his head and stepped between the two. "Oh no, you're not taking all the credit for this. He's not the Blindman. I'm the blind man, or at least a licensed partner in his business. This was my contract not his, I did that," he said as he pointed to the broken pile of wooden slats, ropes, and pulleys with Senator's Flavius' twisted body still trapped underneath. "Well, it was a bit top heavy, but I was going to fix it before all this craziness happened."

Petyr scratches his head. "Wait, Teryn. Teryn the craftsman is the Blindman? "

Yarl gave a bemused smile and a nod as he faded into the shadows.

"Wait, so let me get this straight. What exactly am I hiring you for in Thyatis?" asked a very confused Petyr.

"A lights out contract," said Oksana.

Artyom laughed.


	25. Chapter 25

The waves crashed against the bow of the galleon as it sailed south through the Sea of Dawn.

Teryn knew he was finally moving up in the world when he had a berth on an actual galleon instead of a galley or longship like the last few times he made this trip. Packed and squeezed in like luggage, and having to split rowing duties wasn't to Teryn's taste.

"Klick Klack," said Nocker, clumsily balancing himself on the rail.

Teryn looked at his dragon. Though his wound had healed, he had grown a bit chubby while recovering.

"I'm going to have to learn your language one day little buddy," he said before throwing a stick the dragon had taken a recent fancy to as far as he could. Nocker shot off after it, as fast as his little wings could carry him, almost catching it before it hit the water.

"He's getting closer," commented Oksana.

Teryn was startled slightly, but not much. There was only so many places one could go on this galleon before bumping into another of one of its passengers.

"You're up early," said Teryn smiling at the big warrior woman.

"Just keeping an eye on our lovely couple," she said pointing at a lower deck near the stern.

Teryn peered over and saw Artyom and Katrina, was that her name, talking and sharing a moment below.

"For a political marriage, they seem to get along nicely," said Teryn.

"Too nicely," chuckled Oksana. "I feel like a third dueling dagger when I'm with them."

Teryn laughed even as Nocker returned. The craftsman petted the dragon before offering the stick to Oksana who waved it about before throwing it towards the ocean even farther than Teryn had.

"Well, at least you'll be busy back in your Barony,"said Teryn. "You're the Seneschal now or something right?"

Oksana nodded."Yes, and I suppose I will be busy. I'm sure some of the less used estates in Bancroft are filled with cultists and other things since Frederick was in charge. I'll probably be organizing expeditions to clear them through the summer."

Teryn smiled. "Hmm, I have a gold that says you'll probably be leading most of them."

Oksana shrugged." Probably, I should just appoint a Captain of the Guard, but I can't get good help these days. Speaking of which, what will you be doing after you finish your 'contract' for Count Petyr? Surely it won't take you all summer to re do his blinds?"

Teryn shot her an inquisitive look. "Eh? My work takes a long time. I'll probably be spending sixteen hour days, and my weekends just to…."

"It took you like a day and a half to finish the Catherdal of Vanya," pointed out the big bodyguard with a smug look on her face.

Teryn raised a finger and then lowered it. "Hmm, true enough. It might not take as much time as I estimated. I've only been to Thyatis City, any recommendations of what to see in the Thyatian 'frontier'?"

"Well, if you're not too busy, I could probably use a hand clearing out all the estates and ruins I mentioned earlier. A paladin would be handy."

Teryn rolled his eyes. "This again? I told you I'm not a paladin. I'm a craftsman that specializes in mainly window coverings, though I am pretty good at other woodworking if I do say so myself."

Oksana laughed lightly. "For a woodworker you handled yourself pretty well in the catacombs, and during that fight with the cultists in the main hall, and lets not forget you volunteering to help the guard clear the basement."

"Well, I did have a map, and I didn't want anyone to fall into one of my traps I set up for the undead when I was making my way out," said Teryn sheepishly.

"Of course," giggled Oksana as she titled her head. "Far be it for me to overestimate the prowess of a Blindman."

"Oh, and my master is not some grandpa assassin or whatever you guys think he is," sniffed Teryn. "I mean, the crazy things you aristocrats dream up. He was just in the neighborhood, probably checking up on me, and err….well he was probably just playing along to get good publicity for the business….I once knew a bricklayer that swung a battleaxe around claiming to be the Viking of stonework just to get business."

Teryn looked at Oksana, and saw she was looking directly at him smiling. Her hair was unbraided, and she was wearing a light chain shirt that hugged the curves of her body. He also noted that she had a kind face when she wasn't scowling or looking stern.

"Well enough of this," said Oksana as she reached into her side pack and pulled out a large ornate hammer. "I didn't bump into you by chance this morning, I wanted to give you this."

Teryn took the hammer, and felt its weight and balance. "It's wonderful, but I told you I'm not a paladin. At best, it would sit on my mantle somewhere as a memento, that is if I ever get a house with a mantle."

"It's just a gift to thank you for your service. You did far beyond what we expected, but it's not just a weapon, it's a tool as well. You can use it in your work,"said Oksana.

Artyom was about to point out that the mallets he uses were much smaller and generally wooden. This item would be something a labourer would use, but looking at Oksana's beaming face he hadn't the heart to tell her so. "Thank you for the gift. I'll remember you guys when I …err….drive stakes into the ground."

Oksana nodded as Nocker returned. She took his stick and faked throwing it a few times before lobbing it high in the air. The dragon took off like a bolt after it.

"Is that a new sword," asked Teryn as he noticed her blade looked slightly different than before.

Oksana sighed. "Yes and No. I lost my old blade when they took us prisoner, this is Kaden's sword."

"Oh, " said Teryn realizing his blunder. "I'm sorry…."

Oksana shook her head. "Don't be. He was a good man and I carry his sword to remind me of our friendship, but as in all things. Life goes on, people have to move forward. Like Artyom there, last year if you told him he would be in a diplomatic marriage and have to run the Barony he would probably faint or laugh in your face."

"…or you….I bet you never thought you would be the Seneschal of Bancroft," added Teryn.

"Yes, or like me. I never thought my path would lead me where I am now. I would have figured I would be dragging Artyom's hide out of another seedy dive somewhere…" she said as she stared into the horizon.

Artyom couldn't help himself but he found himself staring at her again. She was a very beautiful woman. However she was practically nobility now, while he was just a simple craftsman.

"You know, I sometimes wish I really was a paladin," said Teryn.

"Eh, why the change of heart?"

"Paladins are pretty charismatic aren't they? They get all the pretty girls."

Oksana chuckled as she turned to him. "You know, women aren't attracted to paladins because they are handsome, they are attracted to them because they are brave. And when I mean brave, I don't mean the 'slay the dragon' type of brave. I mean the 'do I dare kiss the girl that could snap my neck' brave," she said with a wink.

Teryn smiled and stepped up to Oksana. She could probably throw him over the rail, and given the angle. he would hit the lower deck instead of the water, but regardless he wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her in, while placing placing another over her shoulders, before giving her a long kiss. She was probably only offering a peck on the cheek with her flirting, but if he was going to be killed kissing a woman like this, he might as well make it count.

As the two embraced, Teryn suddenly broke off.

"Eh, what's wrong?" asked a disappointed Oksana with a pout on her lips.

Teryn pointed to the waves. Several blue green objects could briefly be seen in it. "I see thirty auras in the water, malevolent ones," he said. Nocker flew down and pecked at the water even as a finned head with razor teeth briefly emerged to snap at him before submerging again. It was hard to tell what they were doing, but they were definitely approaching their ship.

"Sahuagin," she said with blade in hand, as Nocker flew to her side hissing angrily at the water."Shark men raiders. They normally don't infest these waters, but if they're here, that means trouble."

Teryn hefted his hammer and felt a part of his spirit flow into it, making it glow white in fury. "You know, I think this is a good time to test out your gift."


End file.
